I Think You're Swell
by cassette tape
Summary: It certainly isn't easy being Mrs. Lennon. Eleanor knows this too well. Join the journey and see all the tears, laughs, drama, smiles, and most of all, the love.
1. Please Please Me

**Hi (: This is my first time posting here, and I hope you all enjoy what I write. I'm a huge Beatles fan so I couldn't help but write this. Just so you all know, this isn't all going to go in proper order. I might skip a few things here and there, but that's only for the sake of the story. I will try my hardest to keep things on track with what really happened, though. Anyway, enjoy!**

*******

_please please me – chapter one_

**1963**

Eleanor Lennon let out a loud, frustrated sigh as her back rested against the brick wall of the busy night club. Her eyes were closed and one hand was stuffed into the pocket of her long, black coat that was thrown across her black, halter neck dress. Her black heels patted across the cement when she switched feet to lean on against the wall.

She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she forced them away. _You are not crying over him_. She told herself. She always told herself that. It never seemed to work. She ran a hand through her dark hair, letting out a long drag.

She was used to it. It had happened over and over again, but it just seemed to be too much now. Yes, it was expected. Yes, she pretended not to care in front of him. But she was so sick and tired of him brushing it off as if it were nothing.

She looked down at her feet, hoping that tonight he would admit he was wrong, that all those women were useless and she was the only one he would ever love. _And sleep with._

Being married to a Beatle had it perks, but this was its main low. The man of your dreams sleeping with woman after woman, and simply not caring what you had to say.

"You a'right, Eleanor?" said a voice from her side.

She looked up through her hair and squinted, trying to make out who it was in the dark. "Oh, heya, George." she said, giving him a little wave.

"Evening." He said, stepping closer. "You didn't answer me question."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Are you a'right?"

She shrugged. "I'm fine. Just tired, it's been a long day."

George nodded, but he didn't look as if he believed her. "Can I have a ciggy?" he asked, pointing to her cigarette in her mouth.

She nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the small box. She pulled it out, handing to him, and he took it, politely, with a gentle touch. He placed it in his mouth and she reached up and light his cigarette with her purple lighter, before placing it and the pack back into her pocket.

"Thanks, luv." he said, leaning against the wall next to her.

"It's fine." She mumbled. "It's bad to smoke, you know?" she said.

"Eh?" George spoke. "You doin' it, too."

"You'll be letting down a whole lotta people when you die." she told him.

George looked confused before answering. "And you won't be?"

She shook her head.

"John?" he asked.

She scoffed. "Right."

"He'd care," he told her.

She looked up at him, smiling a fake smile to make it look as believable as she possibly could. "I s'pose."

"He does love you." George told her.

She looked ahead at the street was busy.

"He might...you know, do what he does, but he loves you."

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"Oi, George!" came a voice from the side. It was John. He had two blondes by his side, giggling, hands all over him. "I'm leavin' now, mate." He winked. "Take care of 'er." He said, gesturing to Eleanor with a slight, uncaring nod.

George looked over at her; she was looking in the opposite direction. George nodded. He would normally make some encouraging comment, but knew better this time. "Right," he said, and watched John pile into one of the four personal cars which would take them to the hotel they were staying at.

"Yeah, he loves me." She said, sarcastically.

George turned back to look at her, and saw the look in her eyes. It hurt him, to see her in such a state. "What time you leaving?"

She shrugged. "Now, I guess. Ain't no point hanging 'round," she said, removing her foot from against the wall. "Bye George." she smiled, leaning in to give him a hug. "Goodnight."

"G'night," he said, puffing on his cigarette. "Want me to get the taxi?" He asked.

"Oh, I was just gonna walk." She said, turning around to face him.

George shook his head. "John'll want me to take care of his bird, luv."

Eleanor sighed. "I'll be fine, thanks."

George stepped forward. "Eh, John would hunt me down if he knew I'd let you walk home on your own."

She smiled, "You sure?"

George nodded, a small crooked smile beginning to peer across his lips.

She shrugged. "Thanks."

*******

Eleanor let out a loud laugh at George's story. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," he grinned, "we basically left him out there for a bit of a laugh."

"You left Paul out in the rain for a _laugh_? You lot are so mean!"

George laughed along with her. "Bloody idiot deserved it if you ask me," he said, as they continued to walk down the empty street. "Him and John were always pickin' on Ringo back then."

Eleanor stopped walking. "Are you serious?"

George stopped beside her and nodded. "Yeah, not much, you know. Still not nice though, hey."

She nodded. "You were always nice to him, though?" She asked, hopeful the answer would be yes, as the two of them began walking again.

"Oh, yeah, 'course I was, luv. It's nice havin' him 'round. Someone that wasn't mad and all. John and Paul were always the ones lookin' for all the fun and that. It's to just nice sit back sometimes."

Eleanor nodded. "Tell me about it." She said, staring at the ground. "Must be hard for you lot."

"Mmm, it's pretty wild. Nice right now though, bein' on this break and all."

"Still, must be hard not to be able to walk down the street without someone underage throwing themselves at you."

George laughed. "Yeah, it's crazy. This is the only time I can go out without being recognised, really."

"What, dead in the middle of the night?"

George laughed again. "That's the basic idea. When it's way past all the girls' bed times."

George was expecting her to laugh or agree with his comment, but she remained quiet. He looked down at her; she seemed to be out of it, not exactly with the conversation. "You right, luv?" He asked.

She turned her head to face him quickly, forcing a smile. "Just thinking."

"What 'bout?"

She was about to open her mouth, to spill her secret, but saw that they were nearing her house. Once they were outside of it, she spoke. "Well, this is it." She said, stepping outside the house and ignoring his question.

George nodded, hands in his coat pocket. "Have a good nigh', Eleanor." He told her.

"You too." She whispered, leaning against the gate.

George couldn't help but stare at her, her eyes more visible in the moonlight. They showed sadness. Simply sadness, and nothing else. He remembered at one point when she'd be all smiles, when those brown eyes would light up a room, and light up John's life. He missed those days.

"Goodnight." He said softly. His eyes remained on her lips; did they always look soft and delicate?

"Goodnight," she told him, before turning on her heels. "Thanks for walkin' me home."

"Welcome." He whispered.

She turned around again when she saw him still standing there, staring at her. "You alright?" She asked.

George nodded immediately, suddenly a bundle of nerves. He stepped backwards quickly, only to trip over his feet. "Shit!" He said, once he hit the ground.

"George, oh my god!" Eleanor cried out, pushing the gate open in a hurry. "Are you okay?" She asked, kneeling beside him.

"Fuck it." George muttered, pulling himself up. Eleanor reached her hand out, which George took to help balance himself. The minute he touched her he pulled back. He felt something. Like a spark. Some strange sort of warmth he'd never felt before.

"Are you okay?" She asked again.

George nodded, dusting himself off. "I'm alright, luv. Thanks. Just made a wanker of meself, but whatcha gonna do, aye?"

Eleanor let out a small giggle. "You sure you alright?"

George nodded, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I'm fine." He told her. "Listen, I uh, better head off now."

"Yeah, of course. Goodnight." She smiled. "Again."

"G'night, Eleanor." He so badly just wanted to hold her hand again, that kind spark he felt was addictive. Then he began to think – if one simple touch of the hand could make him feel like that, imagine what else she could do to him. A kiss would probably make him feel more warmth than a fire. He wanted to reach out to her and kiss her all night long, to show her that not all men were like John.

_Jesus Christ, George, she's John's bird. You can't have her. Stop thinking like that. _

"Bye." He said, quickly turning around and leaving her in a confused daze.

*******

**So, that was it, haha. Please tell me if you guys enjoyed this, feedback is what keeps me going! By the way, chapters will be much longer than this one. Thanks for reading. (:**


	2. I Saw Her Standing There

*******

_i saw her standing there – chapter two_

**1963**

"Dammit." George said, letting out a long sigh.

"Aye, George. What's goin' on there?" Paul asked, putting his bass guitar down by his side.

George looked up to face Paul. "Nothing, Paul. Just a little tired."

"Right, well, don't play like that when Brian's 'round, he'll give you one."

George nodded, his guitar in his firm grip. Today they were working on new songs for their next album. And every single time they had thought of a new idea, George had made several mistakes, making it hard for everyone to make any progress. Whether it was going to fast or going too slow, the other three had become annoyed. John and Ringo had gone outside for a smoke because one, they did actually crave some puffs, and two; George's constant mistakes were beginning to annoy them. Paul had decided to stay with him, to try and work out what the problem was. George was never like this - he was always spot on with music, absolutely perfect. So Paul began to worry, for both the band and George himself.

George began to reach for a note, to start off the song, only to hit the wrong one again. "Fuck it." He said, roughly removing his guitar strap and putting the guitar on the floor and standing up.

Paul looked at him curiously, his big, brown eyes following his every move. "What's wrong you with you?"

George didn't reply. He just continued to pace around the room. He couldn't tell Paul. He couldn't tell anyone, especially Eleanor. But _especially_ John. He couldn't tell anyone that he had spent the whole night before thinking about her. Thinking about Eleanor, holding her hand, kissing her, making love to her. George scolded himself thousands of times, telling himself that he had to get over her, over this stupid little crush.

"I told you, I'm tired." George muttered.

Paul rolled his eyes. He wasn't idiot. He'd known George for years and he knew when he was lying. "Come on, mate. Tell me what's really on your mind."

"I'm tired, Paul!" George said, his voice much sterner this time.

"Oi, lads," said a voice from the door. It was John. He and Ringo had come back from their break. "What you yellin' about?" John asked, referring to George.

"Bloody nothing." George said, clearly annoyed.

"Really now?" He asked, stepping closer to George. "This wouldn't have anything to do with your ridiculous guitar playing, would it?" He laughed.

"Oh sod off." George muttered, yet loud enough for the rest of them to hear. He sat back down on his chair, placing his guitar back on his lap.

John couldn't help but feel a smirk fall across his lips. He had to admit, he loved to annoy George. It was just too easy to wind him up. And once you did, he sure as hell wasn't the quiet one anymore. He didn't know why, but there was something so appealing about work him up. Possibly because he was the youngest - he just seemed like an easy target. "Ooh, sorry, luv." He said in a high pitched voice.

"Leave him alone, will you?" Said Ringo, not liking the tension.

"Oh I'm only joking." Said John, rolling his eyes and stepping by George, who was focusing on his guitar. His dark eyes were facing the floor, trying to ignore John. "You know I'm only kidding, don't you, son?" He asked, ruffling George's once neatly brushed.

"Piss off, won't you?" He yelled.

"Christ, relax mate." John replied, taking a seat next to Paul.

At that moment, Brian Epstein walked through the doors. "Good evening, boys." He greeted them all. He noticed the awkward feeling between them all, but decided to ignore it. "So tell me, lads, what's the update on the new songs?" He asked, his arms crossed over this chest proudly. "Sorry I couldn't stay during the morning, that meeting wasn't even planned. No one bloody well told me, had to go, though. Anyway, new songs, tell me: what have you written?"

"Um," Paul said, worriedly, not facing his manager. "We sort of..." His voice trailed off. If there was one thing Paul McCartney hated with a passion, it was disappointing people. He knew him and the rest of the boys would get a long, angry scolding. They have only worked on one song since they started. Brian was expecting at least three, hoping for four. He had come in at 6am that morning, giving them the usual lecture, which included several sarcastic comments from John. He told them all what he wanted and when he wanted them done by. The deadline was 6pm. It was now 8pm. They had been working on songs all day and hade only succeeded in making one.

"What?" Brian asked. "What is it? Why do you all look so glum?"

Paul looked to John for help, he was always best at these sorts of things. "Well you see, Bri," said John. "We got a bit distracted, so, we couldn't exactly get any work done."

"What?" Brian said, his hands now on his hips. "Do you know how long you boys have been in here?"

"Few hours, ain't it, Paul?" John asked. Paul didn't say a thing. "I think it's two, Eppy." John replied, sarcastically. "Of course we know how bloody long we've been here. You think I like being crammed into this damn room all day? I've got better things to do."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm sick of your god damn cheek, Lennon." Brian said, finger pointing accusingly at John. John fake pouted, before turning his attention to his attention to his guitar. "You lot gonna tell me why you haven't been working?"

John simply pointed a finger at George, his eyes still focused on his guitar.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "George?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes, your precious little Georgie is to blame." John said.

Brain stood by George, eyeing him curiously. "What's this about?"

George's dark eyes met Brian's curious ones. George let out a scared sigh; he wasn't used to disappointing Brain when it came to his music. Sure, he and the rest of the lads would mess up a bit at parties and such, Brian would get angry - but that was all in good fun. But never when it came to music. "I, um," he started. "I sort of..."

"He's been bloody useless all day. You should take him, Eppy; we might get some work done without him." John teased.

"John, stop it." Paul whispered.

"George?" Brain asked.

George bit his lip. "Sorry." He muttered. "Just been a little off today, is all."

"A little off?" Brian asked. "You've only got one song done!"

"I know, Brian. I'm sorry." He said, his eyes on the clean ground.

"Sorry? You're sorry? George, there is a deadline before the record needs to be released. Which means pushing back all the tours, imagine the fans! They're already hysterical enough as it is. No one is going to be happy about this, George. What about all the-"

"A'ight, Brian, I think the boy understands." Said John, who seemed annoyed, his eyes still on his guitar.

Brian eyed John for a brief, angry second before returning his attention to the youngest in the room. "George, lad, what's wrong with you? All day you've been fumbling around, what's your problem? Your guitar? Need a new one? New strings? Tell me."

"I haven't been fumbling around," George replied. "I'm alright. The guitar's alright. We'll get the songs done, okay?" He continued, trying to reason with the man. "We'll even stay the extra hours."

"Aye!" Yelled John. "Speak for yourself, I ain't stayin' any longer."

"Me either." Ringo said softly, and Paul gave a brief nod.

George rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll bloody stay by myself and get it all done."

"No," Brain said quickly. "None of that – when you work on your songs, you work on them together. You're a band, there are four of you." He told them all.

"What are we gonna do then?" Asked Paul, curious as to what would be happening.

Brain sighed, running a hand over his face. He paced around the carpeted floor for a few minutes, biting his nails in a nervous manner. The four band members looked at each other, wondering what their punishment would be, and how much longer they would be needed in the studio. They would occasionally give Brian a few stares, as the watched him anxiously. Paul began worriedly tapping on his bass, his brown eyes in a state of annoyance, anger and fear. Ringo was biting down on one drum stick, continuously looking at the floor. John looked as if he couldn't care less, as he leaned back against his chair, with what appeared to be a small smirk on his face. George's mind had quickly forgotten music, and was now on Eleanor. She was all he could think about, and quite frankly, all he wanted to care about. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing, if she was out, or simply waiting up for John. His thoughts were ruined when Brain returned with his decision.

"Okay," he started, as he stood in the centre of the room, with all eyes on him. "I'm going to send you lads home," he told them, and John couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. Brain shot a glare at him, "_but_, I want you all here tomorrow at 6am. Exactly at that time, you hear? You won't leave until I tell you to." He said, authority clear in his voice.

"Yes Miss." John joked, smirking.

No one laughed.

*******

"You think we should be out?" Asked a worried Ringo.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Live a little, will you, Rings?"

"Eh, none of that," John said, pointing at Ringo. "Have some fun." Ringo gave him a grin.

"Maybe we should just head home?" George said, as the four sat down at the bar. They had already been given thousands of stares, and it looked as if people were queuing up just to have some form of contact with them. Small groups on girls were huddled together, giggling and pointing at the dark haired boys.

"Oh, bugger off, George." John said, ordering his drink. "We're only here 'cause of you, anyway."

"Leave him, eh?" Spoke Ringo. "Let's just have a good night, before we're in the studio all day tomorrow."

John ignored him, spinning around on the stool to face the busy crowd. He eyed a brunette who was making eyes at him and smirked. "Boys, check out the talent." He said, giving the woman a small point of the finger. Ringo chuckled, taking a gulp of his drink, Paul gave John a pat on the back, saying "you know how to pick 'em, mate!", while George stared at her, not sure knowing she had that Eleanor didn't. John gave his friends one last sly smile, before walking over to her. All the other girls eyed John's target angrily, jealously seeping through their eyes.

George continued to eye John angrily, as his arm slipped around the brunette's waist. He watched the older Beatle bend down a little and whisper something in her ear, making her blush and giggle profusely. George rolled his eyes. What did Eleanor even see in him anyway? "Fucking hell," George muttered. He told himself he was going to try and stop thinking about her when they left the studio, yet not even 10 minutes into their evening out, she was on his mind already. His eyes began to darken as John began to kiss the stranger.

"What's wrong with you?" Paul asked, looking at him for a brief second before his eyes darted back to the crowd. Ringo had scattered off a minute ago to dance.

"Nothing," He muttered, his eyes focused on the liquid in his clear cup.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Stop it, will ya?"

"Stop what?"

"Bein' so bloody moody,"

George looked up at him. "Piss off, Paul."

Paul but his lip, "tell me, eh?"

George sighed. "Paul, I'm fine. Go find some girl to shag or somethin', will ya?"

Paul gripped George's shoulder, ignoring his previous statement, "Reason why you've been glaring at John all night?"

George's eyes darted to Paul's quickly. "What?" He asked, nervous.

Paul nodded. "I seen ya," George didn't know what to say. "Why you so jealous?"

The other Beatle began to panic. Was he being that damn obvious? "It ain't that, Paulie..."

Paul gave him a sad smile. "She's just a bird, eh? Maybe John will let you have 'er when he's done."

"What?" He replied, bewildered.

Paul gave him a wink. "I saw the way you were looking at her, Georgie." He continued, giving his head a slight nudge in the direction of John and his future one night stand. "Besides, don't even think John will sleep with her, reckon he's gonna go back to Eleanor early tonight."

George let out a sigh of relief. That was close. Way too close. "Why do ya reckon he's leavin' early?" He asked, trying to move on with the conversation, and also genuinely interested.

Paul shrugged, leaning further onto the table. "Dunno, John said something about them having a row earlier."

George felt a grin appearing on his face, so he quickly placed the glass to his lips to hide it. He couldn't help it; the grin was far too wide so he simply placed his hand over his mouth, pretending to wipe his lips of the strong alcohol. "What 'bout?" He asked.

Paul shrugged again. "Something about John stayin' out too late."

George rolled his eyes. "What else?"

"What do ya mean, 'what else'?" Paul asked, with one neat eyebrow raised.

George blushed. "Ya know, just wonderin' what it was about, is all." Paul gave him an odd look, but chose to ignore it when he saw a blonde girl appearing by his side.

"Gotta go, mate." He said, without even looking at George.

*******

"John, I cannot believe you!" Eleanor yelled. She had gotten a call from Paul earlier, who had used the bar phone, to come and pick up John. It took her while to understand what he meant, due to his slurred words. But after a few minutes she realised that John was too drunk to make his way home and needed her help.

John rolled his eyes, loosening his black tie. "Stop it, will ya?"

"No," she retorted. "John, _this_ has to stop. You can't keep carrying on like this."

"Yeah yeah," her husband replied, his words slurring due to the alcohol, sliding his jacket off and placing it onto the bed as he sat down upon the soft mattress.

She scoffed. "That's all you have to say for yourself?" She asked, her arms crossed as she stood next him by the bed.

John looked up at her. "I'm so sorry, luv. You own my heart completely; I'll never be unfaithful again." He told her sarcastically, his hand over his heart.

"John!" Eleanor yelled, "I'm being serious."

"I don't care."

Eleanor sighed. "Please, John. Can we at least talk about this?"

John began to take his shoes and socks off as he spoke. "All you'll do is scream. I don't want any of your shit at this time of night."

"Well maybe if you didn't stay out say late." She mumbled.

"Piss off, Eleanor." John moaned, lying down on the bed.

She bit her lip, trying to restrain herself from slapping him across the face. "John, act like an adult for once, will you?"

He sat up straight away, a look of anger on his face. "I am actin' like a bloody adult. You're the one yellin' like a damn kid."

"Only 'cause of the way you act," She retorted.

"If I say I'm sorry will you sod off?"

"No."

"Fuck," he said, aggravated. "All I did was kiss her."

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Yeah, and if I hadn't of come in time, you probably would of slept with her."

"Oh boo fuckin' hoo," groaned John. "Get over it, will ya?"

"I cannot just get over it, John. It fucking hurts seeing you with all those girls."

"Eleanor, Christ. I wanna sleep."

"Well I wanna talk." She stood her ground. Enough was enough.

John nodded. "Fine, talk so I can bloody sleep."

"Do you know how upset I get when I see you with girls?" John rolled his eyes. "It hurts more than anything. I can't compare with them - tall, blue eyes, blonde, everything you want. What am I supposed to do? Dye my hair? Wear tighter dresses? Tell me, John, what is it that I have to do to stop you from cheating on me." He simply shrugged.

She was about to walk away when John wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "I'm sorry, okay?" Eleanor pushed his arms off her, only to have him grip her waist again in a tight embrace. "I don't love those girls throwin' themselves at me, you hear? I'm married to you," his fingers gently traced the ring on her finger. "I love you, Eleanor."

"What? So I get a damn ring on my finger and you say you love me it's all okay?" She muttered, her voice sounding as if it were about to break

"No," he said, "it isn't, but if I didn't love you I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"I dunno..."

"Yes, Eleanor, you do know. You know I love you. May not show it, but I do, alright?" He said, his eyes meeting her one's in the light of the room.

"I s'pose..."

He softly kissed her hand several times, before making his way up to her shoulder, her cheek and then, before standing up, kissing her lips. "I really do love you, Eleanor," he whispered.

"Can't you say things like that all the time?" She whispered.

John rested his head in the crook of her neck, letting out a loud sigh. "And if I don't?" He felt her shrug in his arms. "I'll try, luv."

"You said that last time. And the time before that." She replied.

John pulled away quickly. "Do you love me?" He asked, ignoring what she had said.

She looked taken aback at first, her face in a confused state. "Of course."

"Say it."

"Why?"

"Say it." He said, more firm this time.

"I love you."

"And I love you," he said, his eyebrows furrowed. "How often do I have to tell you?"

"You make it sound like some sort of chore." She replied, biting her lip. It all seemed to be going well until then. She knew very well that John had a short temper, and she had to tread even more carefully when he had been drinking.

"You bloody well make it one." He removed his arms from around her.

"Don't John. Just don't."

"You know what you were gettin' into, Eleanor."

"I don't wanna hear it." She said again.

"Fuckin' truth hurts, eh? Don't pretend you didn't know when we were first together. You knew there were girls."

"I said drop it, John!" She yelled, turning around to face the window. She stared out into the sky for a few minutes, not quite sure what to do. This had happened far too many times. She tried to get John to talk, to open up to him, and just when she thought things are going well, something erupts in him. He turns into a monster and takes the guest room or sleeps over at a friend's place. She never knew what he meant by 'friend's place', but she decided it was best to leave it, to save her from another fight and more tears.

"I'm going." He told her.

She didn't turn around.

"Might say at George's tonight, he didn't go home with anyone."

She didn't turn around.

He paused for a second. "I won't be back until late tomorrow; Brian wants us to finish some songs or somethin'."

She didn't turn around. She would always turn around, but this time was different.

"I'll be back early in the morning."

Still, she stood with her back faced to him. She heard him sigh but she didn't flinch. Not this time.

"I love you, Eleanor." He said, before walking out and closing the door behind him. By the time she realised what he said and turned around, he was already gone.

*******

**So so sorry for the wait! School started up again and it's been such a load. I hope you guys all liked this one, though! And I promise updates should be much more regular. (: Oh and thanks for all the reviews for the first chapter, you guys are too sweet. 3**


	3. Misery

*******

_misery – chapter three_

**1963**

**  
**George wanted sleep.

He had been out most of the night with the rest of the lads, trying to drown his misery in a few drinks. A few drinks turned into ten. He couldn't remember who, but someone had shoved him into a taxi and left, saying, "take care of this one, he's a blessing." George didn't know what they meant by that. He certainly didn't think of himself as a blessing.  
As he stumbled through the door, he fell to the floor with a loud thud. "Jesus," he muttered, picking himself up and making his way to the bathroom. It was small, yet spatious at the same time. The walls were a cream colour, the tiles a bright white. He leaned into the mirror, pressing his forehead against the cold, hard reflection of himself. "Pull yer self together, Georgie," he told himself. "She's just a bird, just another pretty bird. And she's John's, you can't have 'er." He continuted. "She's John's." He said again, and it was then realised how much it actually hurt to say it.

George just wanted sleep.

"She doesn't have to be John's..." He whispred quielty, afraid if anyone would hear him. "She could be mine." He said, his eyes dark. "We could get married and have children and..." He stopped. "Fuck, now I sound like a maniac."

Now George _needed _sleep.

He walked out of the cold tiled room and neared his bedroom, taking off his black jacket and throwing it onto the floor. His took off what he had to, deciding to stay in his boxers and a white undershirt, before climbing into bed. His eyes closed straight away, and instantly the brunette that had been haunting him was seen in his mind again. There she was, in slow motion, skipping and running with a smile upon her face. She was in a field of yellow flowers, and she tossed her hair back over her shoulders as she jumped. This always happened. She'd always be here, in a field of fucking flowers. What did that even mean? Why not red flowers? Why not the snow? Why not someone who was available and not married to one of his best friends?

He suddenly heard a wild, angry knocking on the door. He jumped a little when he first heard it, but then rolled his eyes and cursed whoever the hell it was.

George just wanted to sleep.

He decided to leave the door chain on, just incase it was some crazy fan. "Who is it?" He asked, not caring how rude he sounded.

"It's Johnny!" Said a cheery voice.

_Son of a bitch_. "What do ya want?" He asked.

He heard John sigh, and could of sworn he rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

George mumbled swear words under his breath before opening the door to let him in. "What do you want, John?"

"Sorry mate," he shurgged, standing in the door way. "Once you get married you'll understand why I'm here, no point explainin' now." He said, with a small smile.

George stepped aside, letting him in. Closing the door, he ran a hand through his dark locks, trying to mat it down to make it look somewhat neat. "You, er, can take the guest room, I guess."

John nodded, sitting down on the couch, taking his shoes off. "Thanks, Georgie. Mind if I use the bathroom first?"

"Go ahead," he said. It was then he realised what John had seen before he walked in. _When you're married you'll understand why_? Obviously another fight with Eleanor, he thought. Or John just giving him another one of his fucked up riddles.

John came back and began to pull off his his tie, playing with it in his hands. "So, didn't bring a bird home tonight?"

George shook his head. "Didn't feel up for it."

"Eh? Not up for it?" John asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "You gone wacky?"

"Yeah, you know, was feelin' a little ill. Gotta be in the studio tomorrow as well."

John rolled his eyes. "Forgot about that, fuckin' hell. No offense, George, but you were shocking today."

George would normally get up set about something like that, but it was too late and he just wanted to sleep so he could get tomorrow over and done with. "Yeah, was a bit off, I suppose."

"George, mate, you were more than a bit off. Bloody stuffed everything up."

"Thanks." He mumbled.

"Didn't say it to be a wanker, it's the truth." John reasoned, his tie wrapped around his hand.

"Yeah, right. Anyway, we should sleep now, yeah?" He replied, trying to avoid the subject now. By John bringing up his terrible guitar playing today, he began to remember the reason behind it. Eleanor. And he knew that he could simply let her name split accidently in this conversation, and all Hell would break lose.

"To be honest with ya, I ain't exactly tired." He laughed.

George groaned on the inside. He'd never get his fucking sleep now.

*******

"So the bird bloody turns her back on me, doesn't say a thing! Think she lost her voice from all her fuckin' screaming." He laughed, putting his bottle of beer on the table in front of him.

George bit his lip. He wanted to yell at swear and just make John feel terrible, like he did to Eleanor. He couldn't believe what a selfish man he was. Did she seriously love this man? John Lennon, did she _actually_ love him? "Do you ever get sick of cheatin' on your wife?" He asked, out of the blue. The alcohol had caused his mind to warp, as well as his words. At this moment he didn't care, he felt free for the first time in years.

John raised an eyebrow, confused and and amused at the same time. "Do I what?"

"Eleanor," George said, taking sip from the near empty bottle. "You sick of cheating on her?"

John laughed, not sure how to reply. "What do ya mean?"

"You know what I fuckin' mean," he replied, slamming the bottle on the table angrily. They were both surprised when it didn't crack. "You ain't tired of seeing her in tears?"

John looked around him, taking in what George just said. "She's me wife, Georgie."

"I know, maybe you should treat her like she actually is."

"I do!" He replied. "I fuckin' married her, didn't I? Got her a ring, a fancy house, expensive car. That's love, ain't it?"

"No," George replied, through gritted teeth. "That ain't love. That is not love, John and you know it."

"Where do you get off, Harrison?" John asked, his voice beginning to raise. "I married her, yeah? She ain't got anything to do with you."

"She's me mate." The youngest of the two replied. "I care about her, you know?"

John stood up now. George mirrored him, although slightly nervous. "You _care _about her? What, you got a little crush on me wife, do ya, George?" He smirked.

"No!" George yelled. "I ain't got a crush on her, John. You know I've had me eye on Amelia, Brian's mate."

John stared at him for moment. Just stared at him. George thought that he might punch him, but he just looked at him, his eyes dark and narrowed. "Good," he said. "Good, that's good."George nodded. "She's a pretty bird, Amelia." _Already making comments._

"Yeah, she's lovely." George said.

It was now an awkward situation. John looked down at his feet, then up at George. "Should we sleep now? Gotta be up early and all that."

George nodded quickly, he wanted to be out of here. And he needed some fucking sleep.

*******

**Hope you guys liked this one! I'm not exactly happy with it, is it too short? All comments are appreci****ated, and all the lovely reviews last chapter were so nice, thanks! :3**


	4. Boys

**Sorry, I completely lost track of where this was being posted D: Apologies to all who were waiting for updates. But thanks you so much for all the reviews you guys left me, it means a lot, and I'm so happy you're all enjoying the story! Thanks again. (:**

_boys – chapter four_

**1963**

"Good job, John!" Brian exclaimed, a wide smile appearing on his face. John nodded with a small smile. The only reason he smiled was because George had actually been playing properly today. They had done plenty of songs, all of which Brain greatly apporved of. "You know what? You lads deserve a break! 20 minutes, extra 10 'cause you've done such a good job." He clapped his hands, escorting the boys out of the room so he could continue on some paper work.

"My fingers are 'bout to fall off." Groaned Ringo, slupming down into the red couch.

"Ugh, tell about it," said Paul, rolling his eyes. He rubbed his hands together, in a bid to make them feel better.

"Boys are too soft," grinned John, as he entered the room behind George. "Me and Georgie here are fine." He said, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "Aren't we?"

George looked up at him when his name was mentioned. "What?"

"You wern't payin' attention to me again?"

"Huh?" George asked. His mind would wonder and wonder all the time now. He'd be in a meeting and he'd think of hugging Eleanor. He'd be on the phone with someone and he'd think of kissing Eleanor. It just went on and on and seemed to have no end.

John raised an eyebrow before laughing. "What's goin on in there?" He softly poked George's head with a finger.

George slapped his finger away. "Nothing, just thinking."

"About?" Paul questioned, now sitting next to Ringo, who looked as if he was about to sleep.

"You know." George shurgged.

"Nah, we don't, son. Or we wouldn't of asked." Laughed John, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"Does it matter?" George whined. He was trying to stall, so he could think of some excuse. An excuse that didn't involve John's wife.

"Mhm." Grinned John. George just shook his head. "Ooh, it's a_someone_, ain't it? Who is it? That bird we this morning, the red head?" He asked.

"Cor, she was a beauty." Piped up Ringo.

"Aye, she's on your mind, isn't she?" Asked John.

"Sod off, I ain't thinkin' of anyone." He snapped angrily.

"Relax, hey." Said Paul, feeling like a fight would erupt between the them all.

"No," groaned John. "I wanna know who he's thinkin' about."

"No one, John." Complained George. He was about to walk out of the room and back into the studio, when John said something that triggered something in him.

"Is it Eleanor?" John asked, a joking tone in his voice.

George quickly stepped back. "What?"

"My bird, you thinkin' about her?"

Paul and Ringo scooted up on the couch, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

"Why would I be thinkin' about her?" George asked, starting to panic. He knew that if John kept on asking, which he most likely would of, then he would give in under the pressure. And George under pressure meant George confessing how he'd been feeling these last few days.

"You tell me," John grinned.

"I haven't...Why would I? I mean..." George began to stammer, and started playing with his tie.

"Why would he be thinking of her?" Asked Paul, curious.

"I'm not!" Snapped George.

"Because he _cares _about her." John said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't care about her," George replied, eyeing John. "I mean I do - but not like that, as a mate." George got his voice back, and he started to make more sense._Thank God_, he thought.

"Aye, no need to fib, son," laughed, John stepping closer to George. "Just admit it."

"Admit what?" George whispered.

John rolled his eyes. "You get a little thing for Eleanor."

"No." Was all he said. When will their break be over, George thought, wasn't their time up? They still had a few things to sort out with Brian.

"What do ya mean, 'no'? You fuckin' told me the other night."

"Other night?" Asked an intrigued Ringo.

"Ya should of fuckin' seen him." Laughed John, almost hysterical, as he turned to face Ringo. "Bloody slammin' bottles and going off his nut, hilarious."

"I wasn't-"

"Ain't ya sick of cheatin' on your wife, John?" John said, mimicking George from the previous night.  
"You're not tired of seeing her cry, John? Don't you love her, John?"

"I didn't say tha-"

"I care about her, John. Oh John, I need her so bad."

"I wasn't eve-"

"Oh, John please, I just-"

"Fuckin' shut it, John!" George yelled, surprising everyone, especially himself. "I didn't say half of that, and ya know it. So what? I care about her! Someone fuckin' has to. God knows you don't. At least I fuckin' do and at least I'm not the one who brings her to tears every bloody night. She's your wife, you're lucky you've got someone like 'er. If I were you I'd learn to fuckin' appreciate the best thing that ever happened me." George finished his bit, taking a deep breath when he was done. Ringo was now standing up, in case either John or George lunged for the other, and Paul was on the edge of the lounge, not sure what to say or do.

John stood there, looking as if he was taking in everything that George had said. He smiled at first, an awkward, angry smile that just didn't seem right. Then he laughed as Paul stood up, and John took a few steps towards the door. Everyone thought he would leave, as he was almost through the door way, yet he stopped and turned around.  
"Fuckin' prick." He muttered, before stepping besides Paul. "That's what you are, George, you're a prick. An absolute fuckin' prick." He moved closer, only to have Ringo place a hand on his shoulder, in a bid to pull him back. "You don't know anythin' about me and Eleanor," he said, shrugging Ringo's hand off him. "You don't know a fuckin' a thing!" With that, he lunged forwards, pushing Ringo aside to get a better aim at George. He punched, targeting his mouth but getting his eye when he felt a pull from behind. Paul had tried to stop him, but simply made the outcome worse.

"What the hell?!" Yelled George, stepping back, only to have John tackle him to the ground.

"You fuckin' stay away from 'er!" He yelled, slapping him across the face, with a quick, hard smack.

"Get the fuck off me, Lennon!" George yelled. Paul pulled John off him with the help of Ringo, pushing him out the door. He didn't leave easily, with him swearing every now and then, trying to get out of their grasps. George lay there for a moment, speechless. He knew that would happened. He knew what he would do but he still had to say it. Someone needed to tell him how much of a blessing Eleanor was to him.

George eventually got off the floor, brushing his suit off with a sigh. Paul came in, stopping just near the door and glaring at George. "You got a thing for Eleanor?" He asked.

George stayed silent, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He certainly wanted her, needed her, wanted to do things to her that would do nothing but anger John. "I dunno."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "You either do or you don't. Which is it?"

George ran a hand through his dark hair. "I don't know, Paul."

"How could you not know?" Paul muttered, eyeing him angrily.

"Why do you fuckin' care?" George asked. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"John's me mate, I don't want anyone fucking him over." He yelled.

"I'm your mate, too!" He yelled back. "You just take his side."

"I'm not taking anyone's side, George." Paul said, holding his hands up in defense. "But Eleanor is John's wife, you can't have her."

"What, 'cause she's married? She's off limits 'cause she's got a husband?"

"Yes, exactly George." Paul told him sternly. "Married to one of your mates, one of your best mates."

"He don't deserve her!" George yelled. "You gotta admit that, Paulie."

Paul stared at him, biting down on his lip. "I know that, George. I know. But that doesn't mean you can go after her."

"Paul, listen to me," a frustrated George said. "She's a nice girl, John always ruins the nice girls.  
She...She's different."

"We all know that, Georgie." Paul said softly, giving him a soft punch on the shoulder. "But she's just something you can't have. Believe me, I want the bird to be happy, she's good, she deserves better-"

"I can give 'er that. I can treat her better." George cut in.

Paul sighed. "George, listen to yourself. Come on, mate, you'll find someone else." George shrugged. "Let's go out tonight, aye? Just you, me and Rings, let John mope about. We'll take some birds home, have a night out and all that."

"I guess." He muttered. He didn't want some bird in some club, he wanted Eleanor. He knew he shouldn't of felt this way, that at the end of the day she was married to John and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Chin up, son." Said Paul. "Just think of all the lovely ladies that'll throw themselves at us tonight."

There was only one lovely lady that George wanted, and that was Eleanor.

"Get over her, Georgie." Said Paul, almost reading his mind. "I promise you, you'll meet someone."

*******"Your hair is lovely." Whispered the young girl, her lips against George's neck.

"Thanks." He muttered, pushing her off him. "You need a lift home or somethin'?

She raised an eyebrow, pushing her black her away from her face. "By 'lift home'...do you mean?"

"No." George said back quickly.

Paul appeared out of no where, a grin upon his face. "He meant to say yes, luv. He's a bit out of it."

"Oh." She grinned, grabbing George's hand. "Shall we leave now?"

George eyed Paul, he didn't want this, he didn'tneed her. "Paul," he said quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear. "I don't wanna do this. Not with 'er."

Paul rolled his eyes. "George, she's gorgeous. Come on." He egged him on.  
George looked back at her. What was her name again? Michelle? Misty? Mary? It started  
with an M, or was it N? "I dunno," he told him.

Paul gripped his shoulders, giving him a slight shake. "She's beggin' for it, George. Macey fuckin' wants it." _So that was her name_. "She wants you, just take 'er home and thank me later." He winked.  
George watched as she took a sip of her drink,her eyes gleaming with excitement. He had met her at the bar, and she offered to buy him a drink. He said no at first,then he remembered he had forgotten his wallet. He let her buy another, and then another, and then one more before they danced for a few minutes. Now they were sittingtogether in a small booth with Paul persuading him to take her home. "She's not all that, Paulie." He whispered.

Paul gripped his shoulder again, almost angry. "I'm trying to help you here, mate. Tryin' to get you over Eleanor. You should be thankin' me."

"I don't need your help pickin' up birds." George retorted.

"What? You think you're an expert now, do ya?" Asked Paul. "Tryin' it on with married women?"

"I didn't try anything!" He snapped back.

"So what's happening?" Asked Macey, playing with her hair.

Paul looked over at George, giving him a knowing look. George sighed, biting his lip before answering. "Yeah, my place, luv. I'll drive ya."

*********  
**George pushed Macey against the wall, kissing her softly on her lips. He wasn't paying any attention, however. Only kissing and playing with her hair, not at all interested in what was happening.

"Where's your bedroom, Georgie?" She asked, playing with his tie.

"My what?" He asked, his words slightly slurring. How much had he drank? It was only a few glasses, wasn't it?

She laughed. "Your _bedroom_."

"Oh," George shook his head. "That, yeah." He lead the way, softly gripping her hand. He pushed the door open, and before he knew it, her lips were back on his in one swift movement. He had her on the bed, her lips biting softly on her neck. He didn't know when or how it happened, but when it did he knew that it wasn't just a little crush anymore: Macey had kissed him roughly on the lips, and in the midst of the moment, George's mind had wondered off to Eleanor. Imagining that she was the one that he was in bed with, that she was kissing him, that she was touching him.

"Oh, Eleanor." He whispered.

"What?" Macey asked, shock in her voice, as she pulled away.

"Huh?" George muttered, his eyes still closed.

"Eleanor?" She shrieked.

"What?" He asked, opening his eyes at the sound of her name.

"You called me Eleanor." she said, almst disgusted.

"No, I was just..."

"Who the hell is Eleanor?" She yelled, standing up off the bed.

"She...she's just-"

"Eleanor _Lennon_?" She asked. "Is that who you were thinking about?"

"No!" He yelled, now off the bed also. "Not her." He lied.

"Then who?" She demanded.

"No one, okay? Fuckin' hell, who do you think you are?" He said, aggravated. He didn't have to answer to her.

She scoffed. "I knew this would happen," she moaned. "I wish I had of went home with Paul."

"Me too." George replied.

She rolled her eyes and put her shoes back on, grabbing her coat from the floor. "I hope you don't mess names up in front of John."

"You and me both," he muttered.

**Again, sorry for such a long wait! ):**


	5. Do You Want To Know A Secret

_do you want to know a secret – chapter five_

**1963**

George's hands were quick and nervous as he grabbed the phone. Dialing Paul's number, he scolded himself. _Pull yourself together. You cannot have her. You can't._ But his efforts were useless and he decided not to waste his time. Paul finally picked up after a few rings, sounding disgruntled on the other end.

"What do ya want?" He mumbled.

"I fuckin' said her name." He told him quickly.

"What? George, is that you?" He asked.

"Yes it's bloody well me. I said 'er name. What do I do? What can I do? Jesus."

"What? George, you're talkin' crazy. What do ya mean?"

"I didn't mean to say it!" George yelled. "I wasn't even payin' attention and then I just..." His voice trailed off.

"Calm down, George." Said the other Beatle. "What name? Who are you talkin' about?"

"That damn bird I brought home, what was 'er name?"

"May?"

"No, that wasn't it. Mel...No, Miche...No, it was...Macey! Yeah, Macey. Her. Fucked it all up, I did. Christ Paul, what did I do?"

"Wait, what?" Paul said loudly. "Calm the hell down and start from the beginning."

George sighed. "I was with Misty-"

"Macey." Paul corrected quickly.

"Yeah, her. And she was kissin' and touching me and then I...I fucking said Eleanor's name, Paul." George told him, defeat in his voice. He didn't hear a reply, not even breathing, and he was about to hang up when Paul finally replied.

"George." He said sternly.

"Yeah?" He was ready for a lecture.

"Stay away from Eleanor." He said.

George didn't want to respond. "I want her."

"She's married!" Paul replied. "She is _married_ to John. John Lennon. You're best mate. You can't do it, George. You can't. It would ruin everything."

"Just our friendship." George mumbled.

"No!" He yelled back. "The fuckin' band as well, George. The Beatles, remember that? What we've been workin' for all these years?"

George scratched his forehead, ignoring what Paul had said. "I think I love 'er."

Paul lost it. "George, don't you even fuckin think about it! She's taken. Married. You. Can't. Have. Her. Move on, will ya? Bloody hell, how stupid are you? She's with John, find someone else!" He yelled.

"You don't understand!" George retorted. "You don't."

Paul sighed loudly. "Then explain, mate. 'Cause right now you're scaring the hell outta me."

"I don't exactly know, Paulie," he admitted. "But I do know that I have feelings for 'er."

"Just forget about her." Paul muttered.

"I wish I could."

Paul sighed one last time before hanging up.

John curiously watched his wife as she sat on the couch, reading a book he had bought her on Christmas. Her legs were crossed and she was wearing an oversized jumper that John owned, too small on him however. He watched as she turned a page, and he wondered how one could be so interested in such a simple item as a book.

"Watcha readin'?" He asked.

She looked up at him, surprised that he had asked, as the whole evening had been spent in silence. She laughed, "You're interested in what I'm reading?"

He shrugged. "Just a little curious, is all."

"You bought it for me." She told him.

"I know."

"You don't remember the name, even though you bought it?" She queried.

He almost blushed when she asked. "No."

"Oh." She said, sounding disappointed. "Um, _The Scarlet Letter_."

"Any good?" He questioned.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?" She asked, almost cautious.

He stood up, striding over and sitting by her. "Dunno, just wonderin'." He told her, playing with the hem of the black jumper she was wearing. "I always loved this on you." He whispered.

"What?"

His dark eyes met her ones, and for a minute he could have sworn she looked scared. Worried. Anxious. He could have made a novel with the amount of words he thought of. "It just...It looks good on you." He replied.

Her mouth was slightly open, confusion simply written across her face. "Thanks." She told him softly.

"Welcome."She looked at him staring at her, went back to her book for a minute, then went back to meet his gaze again, then back down to the word covered pages.

The whole evening he kept staring at her, watching her from the corner of his eye. He felt that if his eye left her body she would leave and run off with George. Then they would get married and have kids and he would never see her again. He sighed, more loudly than he wanted to, as he caught the attention of Eleanor. She looked at him and he smiled back at her. She gave him an almost worried smile before once again returning her attention to the book. He wanted to sigh again but thought not to, as he didn't want to alarm his wife.

He got up from next to Eleanor, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat on one of the black stools. He didn't know what he was feeling. Yes, he loved Eleanor, but she was just someone who was_there_. He didn't think he needed her, but now everything with George had made him much morepossessive of her. He knew she wouldn't run off with him. They'd been married for a while now, she would have done it sooner. ...Wouldn't she?

"Fuckin' hell." He swore. He wanted to talk to her about this. She was always saying that communication was the only thing she wanted from him. That, and for him to justlove her. He never took that chance with her. He never told her when was feeling down or even sick, simply because he never wanted her to see the weak side of him. The side that would show her that he wasn't the same man anymore. He had always thought that she would always be by his side, no matter how many times he slept with other women or how many times he retuned home to throw drunken insults at her. He remembered all the times how she had found him in the corner of some wild club, hands and lips all over some young woman. He remembered how for the first few months should would cry, and then over time she'd swear at him. These days, she'd just roll her eyes and always say, "I'm going outside for a cigarette." Then he'd always find her out there and he'd tell her to get a taxi home, while he either went off to the groupie's place or to Paul's, and take his spare bedroom.

His anger took over him and he slammed his fists onto the counter. "Fuck!" He screamed, louder than intended. He heard a gasp behind him, and turned to see Eleanor, looking scared.

"Sorry," she told him quickly. "I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat. I mean, you came in here, so."

"It's okay, luv." He told her.

"You want me to make you something?" She asked, stepping closer.

"No, no, it's fine." He smiled. She smiled back shyly, almost looking down at her feet. He noticed how she wonderful she looked. How even in an oversized jumper she managed to look like the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Her cheeks turned red and it was then that John realised that he had never told her that. His eyes opened wide with shock for a minute, before quickly squinting at the woman in front of her. "Why ya blushin'?" She quickly shrugged and intended to leave when he pulled her back, gripping her wrist in a soft manner. "You do believe it, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter."

He pulled her against in his chest, in a close embrace. His lips quickly caught hers and he couldn't help but melt for what felt like the first time in his entire life. He felt her hands grab at his hair, tugging on it in a moment of bliss. It seemed to feel more real than their first kiss, more real when he first laid eyes on her in the old, battered book store. She tried to pull away, but John's hands quickly grabbed her waist, then her hands and left them there for a moment longer, before escaping her lips. "Eleanor," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"Why are you doing this, John?" She muttered.

"Doing what?"

She sighed."You're different. Kissing me, touching me, you haven't done that in ages."

He looked down, handsresting on either side of her rosy cheeks. "Because I'm a bad man."

She shook her head. "You aren't...you aren't bad, John."

He strokedher face with one hand, softly caressing her skin. "You and I both know I am."

"Maybe." She murmured.

"It's about time I showed you I loved you, isn't it?" He asked.

"Well I never liked it when you treated me the way you did, so yes, I s'pose."

He ran a hand through his hair, not sure what to say to that remark. He knew she hated it when he acted like a right bastard, but hearing her actually say it made him feel like the most horrible man in all of England. It was obvious she despised John sometimes, he would too, but hearing his love say it, his wife, hearing _Eleanor _say that. It broke his heart. He wasn't ever moved easily, he didn't get upset when someone insulted him or when he had a fight with one of his mates. But when she said that, oh how he wished he could turn back time and make it all right. All he wanted to do was spend the rest of his life making it up to her, showing her that he could love her and treat her well. Not like George could. No one could measure up to the love he had for Eleanor. She was his, not George's. They weren't married. They weren't living together. George and Eleanor talked and were friends, but that was it. That's where John drew the line. And that's the moment John Lennon realised, that at that moment, it was the time to change. Either that, or lose his love.

"George, you stay away from her, you hear?" Said Paul.

George wasn't paying any attention. His mind was set on one person and one person only. This party wasn't in any interest of him; it was something about a new record or something. He didn't remember. He decided to attend purely based on the fact that Eleanor might have come with John. His dark eyes scanned the crowds, hoping to see those familiar eyes, that face. That one girl that was on his mind so much he was starting to scare himself. At last, she entered the room, hand grasping John's. George felt his heart take a slight stumble when he saw her smile up at her husband, him saying that something with a grin and a laugh appearing on Eleanor's face. Her being happy would normally make him skip a beat, but it was John making her happy. John. That wasn't normal.

He felt a sharp nudge in his stomach, and he looked over to see Paul eyeing him with an angry stare. 'Don't fuck this up,' he mouthed, before turning his attention away from him and to the now nearing couple.

"Ah, the Lennons!" Yelled Paul cheerfully. George knew he purposely said that, rubbing it in his face, warning him to stay away. "How are you, mate?" Paul asked John.

John stared at George for a minute, before wrapping his arm around Eleanor's waist, brining her closer. "All good, Paulie." He replied.

"Ah, and how's the wife?" Paul asked.

George rolled his eyes, grabbing a drink from a waiter walking past. He downed it quickly, looking at Eleanor as she went to speak. She smiled, "I'm fine, thanks, Paul. Yourself?"

"Oh, I'm good, luv." Paul smiled. "How about you, George?"

"I'm fine." He muttered, looking down at his shoes. George noticed that John had kept staring at him, his eyes locked in a dark glare. He stared back curiously, wondering what had happened to their friendship. He wasn't sure if they were still friends or if they were now enemies. It was simply a fight. It's not like he injured George, yes the punch hurt and the slap stung, but that was it. His words cut deeper, hurt more than the physical violence. _"You fuckin' stay away from 'er!" __George remembered John's warning__. __An__d_ then Paul's little lecture, Paul's stupid bid to get him a bird, Paul telling him what to do, Paul rubbing it in his face that Eleanor wasn't his. George wasn't sure why he had gotten so involved in his problems, but he certainly didn't like it.

When he looked back up, John and Eleanor were gone. George turned to his side to see Paul talking to Ringo, whispering something secretively. He stepped away before he was noticed, going past the bar and past the bathrooms, sneaking through a corridor and finally making it outside into the cool, crisp air. He looked around and saw only one person leaving, getting into a car and taking off. Sighing with the relief of being alone, he pulled out a beloved cigarette from its red packet. Lighting and placing it in his mouth, he closed his eyes and thought of her again.

"Eleanor Eleanor Elanor." He said. "What are you doing to me?" George could have sworn she appeared out of no where.

"I'm sorry?"

George jumped, "Christ, where'd you come from?"

Eleanor laughed, taking the cigarette between his lips and placing it between his. "What is that I'm doing to you, George?"

He shook his head quickly. "Nah…Not you. Different Eleanor. Completely different."

She leaned against the wall, a smile appearing on her face. "Oh, that's a shame."

"Why?" He asked.

"You know, George, that night you feel over and stuttered like a little boy was the cutest thing I've ever seen." She admitted, ignoring his question.

"Is it now?" He whispered. She nodded, blowing out the smoke. George licked his lips, wanting more than just to talk to her. "You like seein' men fall over?"

She laughed loudly, giving him the cigarette back. "It's one of my hobbies, yes." He moved closer, placing his hand on the wall beside her. "So, who's this Eleanor girl you're so in love with?"

He almost said 'you' but bit his lip so hard he thought he'd bleed. "A mate of mine." He told her, dropping the cigarette to the ground. She stepped on it before he could, her heels putting out the small bit smoke.

"Oh, that's nice. What's she like?"

George sighed, not sure how to answer. "Amazing is all I can say, really. Not the easiest person to describe."

"Oh," she said. "Well, hope it all works out."

"Me too." He told her softly.

She looked down at the ground for a minute. Then another. And then one more before she finally spoke up. "I know it's me, George."

"Oh."

"I'm the only Eleanor you know."

"Oh." He said once more.

She stared up at him, their eyes meeting in the darkness of the street. He swore he had seen her blush. Even with the night sky taking over them both, he had seen it. He was so close to reaching out and touching her soft, brown hair, but she turned away, her face turning the other direction. He wondered what she was thinking, what her mind was on, or more orless, who it was on. When she turned around again, his strong hand pushed forward once more: she didn't flinch this time. He stroked her cheek, his thumb softly running across her bottom lip. He moved forwards, kissing her forehead, and then brushing his lips down her right cheek. Then finally, her lips met his. At first it was an awkward kiss, much like a first kiss ayoung person has, and they have no idea what to ,she moaned and grabbed George's neat hair, causing him to push her against the wall. His tongue traced her lips, begging her, pleading, until she finally opened hermouth and let him in. At this point, he didn't care if Paul came out and gave him another speech. Hell, he didn't even care if John came out. He ran a hand through her hair, and then placed it on her slender waist, pulling her closer to him. Her hands remained in his locks, running her fingers through it every now and then.

She finally broke the kiss, taking a deep breath and rested her back against the bricks. "Is it bad that I don't feel the slightest bit horrible about that?"

George laughed for what felt like the first time in years. "Not at all, luv."

**Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys! You're all so lovely. I'm glad you're all enjoying it. (:**


	6. Baby It's You

**Thanks for all the reviews! (: **

_baby it's you – chapter six_

**1963**

Eleanor was not a bad wife. She cooked and cleaned after John, making their bed and always giving him perfection when it came to his meals. She'd always wash his shirts and pick up all his records he left scattered around, and she now knew every little detail on them: the words, the pictures, the exact spot where some of the covers had been slightly bent and scratched. She didn't mind that, she liked to make John happy. Seeing him happy made her happy, and these days he seemed her only source of smiles. She always knew that depending on people was a terrible thing, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't a bad wife. She loved John. She always loved John. John was her husband so she was there to make him happy.

But even through all of that, even after the millions of papers full of lyrics she had to pick up and all the broken guitar strings she found on the coffee table - she felt like the worst wife on the planet.

At first the kiss she shared with George made her feel alive. His lips were soft and his hands were strong, it would have been perfect if it wasn't for the ring on her finger. When he pulled away she was disappointed, just a second longer would have made it better. But then he smiled down at her and her heart melted once more. When she went back inside, she remembered John's face. How he smiled at her and grabbed her hand, making her dance with him when one of their songs played. She couldn't remember which one it was, but John said he hated his voice on that track. Something about being sick and having a cold, she wasn't exactly paying attention. She just shook her head and said he sounded amazing, and he laughed and kissed her.

Now, the next day, she lay in bed with a sleeping John's arm around her waist. She had been awake for an hour and all she could think about was John and George. Her husband and his best friend. The ultimate crime in a relationship, wasn't it?

Being careful not to wake John, she quickly got out of bed and to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Exiting, she entered the lounge room and stood there, the photo from their wedding catching her eye. It wasn't an expensive wedding; she didn't even wear a proper white dress. She wore black. John just wore a pair of dress pants and a black shirt, and a second later she was Mrs. Eleanor Lennon. Everything she wanted to be since the moment she met him, and everything she ever wanted to be at that point in time. But years later, things changed. People change and feelings change, and it's just the way things go. She picked up the frame, looking at John's smiling face. She noticed Paul in the background, his face staring happily at the couple. Then her eyes fell on George, he was smiling but his eyes had closed when the photo was taken. She laughed, only realising now that had happened.

The quiet was ruined when the phone rang; startling her so much she almost dropped the photo. Slowly picking up the phone, she placed the photo beside it. "Hello?" She answered.

"Eleanor." She heard a familiar whisper.

"George," she whispered back, looking back to see if John was anywhere near her. "Hi."

"Hi." He said back quietly. "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Yeah, yeah we do." She replied quickly, agreeing with his words.

"My place?"

"Yes, see you in a few, George."

* * *

John nodded slowly, his eyes suddenly dark. "Yeah, alright."

Eleanor bit her lip. "I just need to go out for a but, you know? I need some fresh air."

John shrugged. "Just go walk in the garden then."

Eleanor shook her head. "I never really liked the garden."

John's eyes rolled and Eleanor began to think everything that had happened between the two was a waste of time. Ever since she mentioned going out he became much more defensive. He kept asking her where she was going, and she kept telling him she just wanted a walk. She was beginning to think that he didn't trust her at all, even though she trusted her fucking life with him. "So, you're not goin' out there to paint the fuckin'scenery, you just want a walk." He told her.

Eleanor tried her hardest not to roll her eyes back, so she closed them instead. "I know, but... I need a different view, okay?"

John scoffed. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then realised she had no idea what it did actually meant. She just wanted to see George. Ever since that kiss she had been craving more. She felt terrible, but that power that needed George over powered the misery. It was like a fight between John and George, and George always won. She hated to admit it, but she needed much more than a kiss from George. It wasn't that she was a whore who would sleep with the first good looking man she saw. The only person she had ever slept with was John. And even then it was a year or two after they'd been together. But there was just something about George, she didn't know what. He was nice all together, but strangely quiet. There was a whole mystery to him,like he had some kind of secret,and she wanted to be the one to find out what it was. Plus the fact that he treated her with such care. When he kissed her he was gentle, yet he kissed with such passion and intensity. His hands were strong yet soft at the same time, and she adored everything about the way he made her feel. John was the same, yes, in his own special way. He was rough and careless with her but he was still loving in his own light. She knew he was scared to show his feelings, which was the main reason why he was like the way he is. She tried to change him, to help him, to get him to open up to her. And each time, she had failed.

"It just means that I want to be on my own." She said back.

"Why?" He shot back.

"Because."

"That ain't a proper answer." He said back a lot quicker than she thought he would.

"John, please." She pleaded. "Just this once."

"And just this once will turn into every bloody day, am I right?" He asked sternly.

"John," she started. "I don't see the big deal, I'm just going out for a walk. Nothing else."

John licked his lips angrily and didn't reply for a few minutes. After running a shaky hand through his hair he finally spoke."When you gonna be back?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I s'pose I'll be an hour. Maybe two."

John's eyes diverted from her ones to the floor in a second, before walking away without saying a word. When he was away from view, she stood there awkwardly, not sure what was happening. She shook her head and grabbed her purse, heading for the smallhand grasped the handle and was about to turn it when John appearedby the hall way. His eyes were still dark and angry and Eleanor felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Just an hour." He said.

"Pardon?" She replied.

John stared back at hercoldly before continuing. "Just an hour, not two, alright?"

"I'm sorry?" She asked, confused.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, before raising his voice."You can only stay out for an hour." He said louder.

"You can't... You can't tell me what to do." She told him, trying to sound brave but her voice failing. John was a demanding person; she knew that, everyone did. Only once had he told her what she had to do, only at one point in their relationship. They had just gotten married and were down at some cheap pub celebrating. Some young men had stormed up to Eleanor, complimenting her in the vilest way possible. John had said nothing but eyed them angrily until they had finally gotten bored and walked away. John later grabbed her hand in a rough motion and pulled her into the bathrooms. She remembered him saying in a drunken slur that "if she ever looked at another bloke, he'd make sure _no one_ would never look at her ever again." She was more surprised than scared and then he proceeded to tell her rules of some sort. She didn't remember any to this day.

"Eleanor, don't go there." He said angrily.

She knew better than to disobey. "Yes, John."

* * *

Eleanor loved George's hands. They were soft and smooth despite his years of guitar playing. They were sitting together on his lounge, simply holding hands. They didn't move nor did they need to. George continued to look to his left and stare at her, his face breaking out into a smile. She would smiled back nervously and blush, loving his eyes on her.

"I'm glad you came over, Eleanor." He murmured, his fingers stroking her hand.

"Me too." She whispered. "Even if John's angry with me now."

George sat up quickly, his hand letting go of hers. "Don't let him do that to ya."

"Do what?" She asked.

He leaned back down at kissed her lips softly. "Don't let him break you."

"I won't."

"You say that, but it ain't strong enough." George told her. "John's not the easiest person the live with and I haven't got a fuckin' clue how you do it. But he'll break you. He breaks everyone."

Eleanor stared up at him, not sure knowing what to tell him. "John's just hard to reason with. He's stubborn, is all."

George laughed. "Stubborn is an under statement, Eleanor."

She nodded slowly before staring over at the clock on the wall. "Only twenty minutes left."

George sighed heavily. "You're letting him win."

"We're not fighting a war, George."

"It seems like it sometimes." George said softly.

"I know, I know." She replied. "Listen," she sat up. "We were meant to talk, weren't we? About that kiss."

"Oh, yeah." George's voice perked up a bit.

"Do you... Did you feel anything?" She asked.

He nodded quickly. "Jesus Eleanor, it was like getting hit with lightening. I mean, well, I dunno what I mean," he said nervously. "But I loved it, it felt amazing."

She smiled brightly. "Really?"

"Mm." He blushed.

She laughed, playing his hair. "That's cute."

He didn't reply but placed his strong hand her cheek. She leaned into it, kissing his hand, then his shoulder, then his neck. When their lips met she pulled away a second later, her eyes full of fear. "I don't want John to hurt you."

"Don't worry, luv." He whispered, his lips on her soft ones once more.

"What if he does?" She asked, her lips still against his.

He didn't reply but kissed her back, and she eventually gave in. There was something so reassuring about George's kisses. The way he kissed, it made her feel like nothing could go wrong. As if they could be in the middle of war and a simple kiss from him could make it all disappear. John's kisses weren't at all like this. They did make her feel loved but...But George was, _George_. George made her feel like she was loved back, he needed her and she needed him: that's what she wanted and he gave her that.


	7. Ask Me Why

**Thanks so much for all the reviews you guys have been giving me! I know it sounds cliché, but it really does mean a lot that you take time to comment on my writing, and all your reviews encourages me to write more (: And I hope you all enjoy this one!**

_ask me why – chapter seven_

**1963**

"I think she's fuckin' him." John whispered, his hand gripping his guitar.

Paul's eyes widened. "What?"

John moved closer. "George, I reckon he's gettin' it on with Eleanor."

Paul's lips turned into an instant frown. "Don't think like that, mate. Eleanor wouldn't do that that, she's a lovely bird."

John rolled his angry eyes. "Have you not seen that fuckin' grin on his face?"

Paul diverted his eyes over to George who had a smile plastered across his face. One hand was placed on the table while the other was writing something down quickly on a bit of paper. His small smile would turn into a bigger one every now and then, so he placed his hand over his mouth in a bid to hide it.

But John had seen it. John had definitely seen it. George was meant to be his fucking mate, and here he was, grinning like a maniac, probably bragging to everyone else about what he'd done.

"The man just might be happy." Paul shrugged. John wanted to punch him. Yeah, happy 'cause he'd been fucking his wife, he thought, continuing to glare angrily at George. "John, stop fuckin' starin' at George like that, he's gonna think somethin' is up."

John tried his hardest to keep his voice at a low level, now his words came out almost like a growl. "Something fucking is up, Paul. You know she left me the other day?"

"She _left_ you?" He exclaimed. Paul's eyes widened as everyone in the studio - himself, John, George, Ringo and Brian - looked up at him with confusion in their eyes.

"No, she didn't fuckin - will you lot stop tryin' to hear in on our fucking conversation?" John said angrily, noticing that everyone had now had a keen look on their face, wanting to know what the two were talking about. John noticed that George especially looked interested, his body turning to face the two. He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips as he went back to writing. Ringo went back to talking quietly with Brian in the corner, who had a concerned look on his face.

"She left you? What do you mean she fucking left you?" Paul asked, his voice low now.

John ran a hand through his messy hair. "She didn't _leave_ me. She just...She left, she said she was goin' out for a walk or something." John explained.

"And?" Paul asked. "She didn't come back?"

"No, she fuckin' came back. But she...She didn't go on a bloody walk, I know it."

Paul sighed loudly, sitting down on a stool near him. He dropped his bass slowly to the floor. "John, she went on a walk for Christ's sake."

John sat by him, pulling out a stool. "No, no, no. You don't get it. Who the hell goes on a fuckin' walk anyway?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "I do. Your wife does."

"Sod off," John said. "She was bloody nervous too. Who gets nervous about things like that?"

Paul bit his lip, looking as if he didn't want to answer. "Yeah, mate."

John noticed his anxiousness. "What is it?"

"Hm?" Paul piped up, still sounding nervous.

"Why are you so out of it?"

"What?" Paul asked, biting on his nails.

"You're all...You're just started actin' funny."

"Nah," Paul laughed, sounding even more nervous as his fingers nervously played with his tie.

John raised an eyebrow. "Macca," he began. "Tell me."

"Tell ya what?"

"You know."

Paul sighed again, his eyes looking up to meet John's. "I just... You're an intimidating guy, John, of course she'd get nervous in a situation like that."

"Situation?" John asked. "What do ya mean?"

"John, think about it." Paul said, his hands rubbing together. "You're her husband, you treat her like shit-"

"Hey!" John interrupted, genuinely insulted by that. Had everyone noticed? John only just realised how he treated her. But had everyone seen it? They couldn't have. It wasn't any of their bsuiness anyway. "I don't treat 'er like shit, I treat 'er good." Paul stared at John, waiting for him to continue. John came to his realisation when he saw Paul take a quick glance to his left, in the direction of George. "I treat her _that _bad?" He asked. He was hoping for a no, but was expecting a yes. He knew what Paul would tell him but also knew that he couldn't handle it, he almost wanted to get up and lave the room in a bid to never hear what Paul had to say.

Paul nodded slowly.

"Fuck." He muttered, his head hanging low. But his mind chose to push that thought away. "What were you sayin' before? Me being her husband or something."

"Oh." Paul said, sounding as if he wanted to leave the subject. "Yeah, that. Well you know, you're her husband. And well...You're John. That scares her, no doubt she'd be nervous in that sort of situation."

"What's with this 'situation' bullshit you keep yappin' on about?" John retorted.

Paul bit his lip. "Think about it, John. She leaves, you get upset, you don't want her to leave, she says she will anyway. What would you normally do?"

"I yell at 'er." He said, shrugging,asif it was simple. When those words fell from his lips he knew then what Paul meant. She was scared of him, terrified even."Jesus." He whispered. "I ain't that bad, hey. I mean if I scared 'ershe would of said something."

"She would of said something?" Paul repeated. "You're kidding, right? She's probably scared enough as it is, she won't go around declarin' to the world that you terrify her. That'llonly set you off, God knows what you'll do then."

"Well it's not like I'm gonna fuckin' hit 'er." John muttered.

Paul's usually calm and soft eyes turned dark, almost angry. "You haven't...You've never done that to her, right? I mean you'd never go that far, not you."Paul said nervously.

John's hands went straight to his face, covering his eyes. He was ashamed. Yes, he'd hit her. More than once. He wasn't exactly proud of it but it wasn't something he'd go to Hell for, right?

"Fucking hell John." Paul said.

John's hands swept away from his eyes and looked at Paul, looking disappointed. "It was only a few times, Paulie."

"So? You fuckin' hit her, Jesus." Paul said.

"It was only whenI was really fuckin' angry, though. And I would of been pissed beyond belief mate, it was usually when I was drunk." John explained, hoping his words would ease Paul.

"_Usually_?" Paul asked through gritted teeth.

"Well yeah, she just...God, Paul, you don't know what it's like." John replied. "When you're married to a woman like her, she's just perfect. She's too perfect. You gotta ruin her, you know? You gotta break her."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Paul asked, his voice shaky and angry.

"It means that I don't deserve 'er, okay? I don't fuckin' deserve her. I'm a bad man, Paul. You know that, I know that, Eleanor knows that. Christ, the fuckin' Queen knows. I need her to be worse than me, I need her to want me." John continued. He had no idea where it was all coming from, but he knew it was true, it was what he felt. He wanted Eleanor to be less than him, to feel like scum, to feel the need to be with John because he was better than her. He didn't know why, he certainly didn't want to find out, though. She was just someone in his life he needed destroy, to make himself feel better. To make him feel like the cool collected John Lennon everyone thought he was.

"I can't believe you fuckin' hit her." Paul said quietly.

John didn't reply, his eyes had traveled over to George. His smile was still there, his hand still clasped to the pen. He'd been writing for a while now and John had become curious as to what he was creating. But John was more worried about George himself; this is the man that could ruin everything. He could take her away from him; he could break John in half. This was the man that could ruin his marriage.

* * *

"John, what are these?" Eleanor grinned, holding the bunch of pink flowers in her hands.

"Flowers, luv." He winked.

"What for? There's nothing special about tonight."

"It's New Year's Eve!" He laughed.

"So you get me flowers?" She laughed with him.

"I don't need an excuse to spoil you, do I?" He asked.

She shook her head, still smiling. "No, I quite like it."

"I got somethin' else you might like too." He whispered.

"Another present?" She asked excitedly, her eyes widening.

"In a way, yes." He said softly, grabbing the flowers from her hand and tossing them softly on the table near them. His strong hands gripped her waist and pulled her by him in a quick movement, making her gasp. He kissed her softly, his lips tenderly pressed against her own. He didn't want to leave, he just wanted to stand there and kiss her all night.

"John," Eleanor giggled, placing her hands on his chest. "We have to leave soon."

"Mm, let's not, hey. It's just a party for a bloody new year." He murmured against her lips.

She smiled widely, moving her lips away from his and glancing at the clock. "It's nearly seven....We should leave now."

John sighed. "Fine."

"Come on, it'll be fun." Eleanor encouraged. "We need a night out, don't you think?"

"Yeah." He muttered.

Eleanor bit his lip. "Be happy, won't you?" She laughed, pressing her hand against his cheek. "It's a new year, no time for mopping about."

"I just wanna stay in, you know?" He said, leaning into her softhand. "Just you and me." He said, kissing her palm softly.

Eleanor smiled. "I promise we will later, I really wanna see everyone tonight, a night out and all that. Plus the boys will be there, you don't wanna see them?"

John shook his head, Eleanor's hand gently slipping from his face. "No I don't wanna see the fuckin' boys. I get enough of them."

Eleanor laughed. "Be nice." She instructed. "And grab your jacket, I wanna leave now. Can we please get there before 1964?"

John was angry. He watched as Eleanor talked with some random bird, they seemed to be in a deep conversation. They were meant to spend tonight together. He didn't care if it was a new fucking year; he wanted to be at home with his wife. Away from everyone. Away from George. Eleanor laughed one last time before giving the woman she was with a slight wave, before heading in the direction of John. He saw her frown as she got closer, and he couldn't help but frown back when she reached him.

"Cheer up, will you? The way you're looking is depressing me." Eleanor said, rubbing his arm.

He shook her arm off roughly. "I don't wanna fuckin' cheer up."

Eleanor rolled her brown eyes. "You're so childish sometimes, John. What's the problem anyway?"

"The problem? I want to spend the night with my fuckin' wife, but instead she buggered off." John replied.

Eleanor sighed. "I'm sorry, John. I promise when we get back we'll spend as much time together as you want."

John's eyes suddenly diverted to the back of the room and wasn't paying any attention to Eleanor had come in. Hewas with Ringo, laughing away as if everything was perfect. George looked over in John's direction, and noticed him looking at Eleanor, glancing at his wife. He watched how he stared at her body, covered in her red dress. How George licked his lips in the slightest and quickest motion. How his face seemed to calm and become content when he saw her. But most of all, he saw desire. Absolute and complete desire, he'd do anything to get rid of John, as long as it meant Eleanor was his at the end of the day.

"How about that? John? John? John!" Eleanor yelled.

"What?" He asked angrily, turning to meet her.

"I said if you want to spend so much time together then maybe we could take a trip somewhere. Maybe the country side? You know how I love that."She smiled. John didn't care. He was just fucking pissed had come and now everything was ruined. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eleanor eyeing George up, then quickly turning back toface John. "Maybe the weekend there?" She continued.

* * *

John stared at her. "No." He simply said, walking off. "No fucking way."

"So, a lovely lady like you must have come with someone, am I right?" John flirted, playing with the light brown hair of a young woman.

She giggled. "Nope, all alone."

"Such a shame." He murmured. "I could definitely fix that."

She laughed, playing with his tie. "You're here with that wife of yours, though, aren't you?"

John pretended not to care. He shrugged. "And?" He said. "She ain't gonna stop me from spendin' me night with a pretty bird like you."

She smirked, moving in closer to kiss his lips. He smiled, hand against her cheek, until he heard the sound of someone from the side of him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Paul whispered.

John's head snapped back to meet Paul. "What? What does it fuckin' look like?"

Paul grabbed John by his shoulder, pulling her away from the girl. "Sorry, luv, this one's taken, there's a ring on that finger." He smiled.

"Hey, no, get the hell off me." John yelled, trying to get out of Paul's tight grip. It was useless. Before he knew it he was pushed into a closet, buckets and mops surrounding him. "What the fuck, Macca?"

"What the hell were you doing?" Paul yelled.

"I was gonna get shagged, that's what I was doing." John yelled back.

Paul shook his head. "Have you seen Eleanor?"

"No I haven't fucking seen Eleanor, I don't fuckin' babysit her, Jesus. You're actin' like I'm her fucking father or something, askin' if I'm keepin' a proper eye on her or no-"

"You wanna know why you haven't fucking seen her?" Paul interrupted angrily.

John ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, Paul. Enlighten me." He said sarcastically.

Paul hesitated before answering, but eventually got the words out. "She left with George."

John laughed. A lost, upset laugh that wasn't right at all. "What?"

"She left with him." Paul said again, more softly, more sternly.

"Right." John rolled his eyes, with his voice still caught in a snicker, before pushing the door open. "Right, Macca." He said with that same laugh.

As John walked down the hall way he stopped by the bathroom, entering quickly, the laugh stopping at that moment. He swiftly opened a cubicle door, rushing to close it behind rested against it, breathing heavily. _She left with George,_ he said in his mind. That one sentence repeating in his head over and over again. Did she even love him any more? Sure he might have messed her up a little, cheated on her a bit, beat her every now and then. But it was mostly when he was drunk. Or when he'd only had only had one or two drinks. Or when he was completely sober...

In a bitter rage, he punched the cubicle door, sending his hand into pain. He didn't care though. He didn't know if he should of went after Eleanor or not, if he should of went around to beat George up, or if he should of asked for more details from Paul.

He decided none of them were right for him and this situation. He decided that he would the one thing that John Lennon knew best: picking up birds to cheat on his wife with.


	8. Chains

**Update 1/2 (:**

_chains – chapter eight_

**1963**

"George!" Eleanor giggled, her eyes bright. "Stop," she said, laughing, "It tickles."

"I'm kissing your fucking shoulders, how does that tickle?" He laughed, his arms around her waist tightly and his lips against her right shoulder.

"I don't know, it just does." She continuted to laugh until George finally pulled away.

"I'm glad we left that party." He told her.

"Mm, me too. Never been much of a fan of parties where your husband completely deserts you for another girl." She said.

George sighed, lying down beside her. "What'd he do exactly?" He asked.

Eleanor turned on her side, leaning her head on her face and closing her eyes. "He was just...He was being John."

"Oh." He replied.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I don't thinkhe noticed us leaving, though."

"I hope he didn't." George whispered, kissing her lips softly. "I don't wanna stop seeing you, Eleanor."

"Me either."

"How are we gonna, you know...How exactly is this gonna work?" He asked, playing with her hair.

"What do you mean?" She asked, raising a neat eyebrow.

George leaned in closer, his hands softly running through her dark hair. She sighed in content, loving his gentle touch."I mean, where does this leave us? Are we gonna be a couple? 'Cause I'm tellin' you now, luv, I don't think I can go any longer seein' you and John together. Even tonight was fuckin' hard."

Eleanor's eyes quickly opened and met his. "I don't mean to upset you, George. But John's still my husband, I just can't not be seen with him."

"I understand that, darlin', I understand. It's just hard, you know? And Christ you looked good tonight, couldn't keep my eyes off ya." He complimented, his hand softly rubbing the hem of the red fabric.

Eleanor blushed, a small smile appearing on her lips. "Thanks." She said softly.

He laughed. "You're going the same colour as your dress." He joked.

She laughed, grabbing his tie and pulling him close, kissing him passionately. His lips were always so soft, so gentle, just so fucking good. There was that special something about George that she just couldn't get enough off. She loved everything about him, his hair, his accent, the way his hands would softly grab her waist, just like he was doing then. She felt him grab her hands, pinning her to the bed slowly and lifting himself on top of her.

She pulled away to moan his name before his lips came crashing onto her own once more. He delicately pulled at the bottom of her red dress, but she turned her head, escaping the kiss.

"What?" He asked. "Was I hurting you?" He asked.

She smiled, resting her hand on his cheek. "No, Georgie."

"Then what?" He asked, grabbing her hand pressed against his face and kissing it.

"I don't wanna do this. I mean, not just yet." She whispered.

George raised an eyebrow. "You aren't a...you know?"

"What?" Eleanor muttered.

"Virgin?"

Eleanor laughed out loud. "What? No! Of course not."

"Sorry," whispered George, embarrassed, his cheeks turning red. "I guess I'm just used to having girls throw themselves at me."

Eleanor's heart hurt at the thought about George with another girl, but she shook that thought away. "Look who's the colour of my dress now, hm?" She grinned, commenting on the red across George's cheeks.

"Oh sod off." He replied.

* * *

Eleanor decided that she should leave early. After the little 'virgin' incident, she decided to head home. It was nine when she left, the party finished at one, so she should of been home on time. She entered her home with a smile across her face, spending time with George always sent her into that state.

When she stepped in the lounge room she was greeted by an angry John. Very angry.

"Where the fuck did you go?" He yelled, standing up to face her, hewas sitting down on the lounge just before, in a nervous state.

"I was just..." Her voice trailed off, thinking of an excuse.

"Where?" John snapped.

"I was just out. On a walk." She lied.

John rolled his eyes. "How many walks do you fucking want?"

"I like walks, alright?" She said, throwing her black coat onto the lounge.

"So you just fuck off and leave me at a party on my own?" John asked.

She scoffed. "In case you forgot, you're the one who left me standing there to go and flirt with some girl you found at the bar."

"So? You're fuckin' used to that now, aren't you?" He yelled.

She shook her head, sitting down. "That's not something I should be used to."

John bit his lip before answering. "Where'd ya go then?"

"I told you: a walk." She said, frustrated.

John's head shook angrily. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't." She shrugged. She watched as John's right balled into a fist.

"Watch your fuckin' mouth."

"Go away, John." She told him, getting up, intending to go to the bedroom. She felt him garb her wrist quickly, pulling her back to him.

"We're gonna fucking talk about this." He ordered in a whisper.

"There's nothing to talk about!" She yelled. "I just went on a walk, what don't you get?" His grip tightened but she didn't show any sign of fear. "It was just a _walk_, John."

John's eyes narrowed as his eyes became angry. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"Eleanor, just don't. Don't fuckin' act like you're some innocent little girl."

"I'm not, John." She told him, his hand still holding onto her wrist. "I'm not a little girl. Not anymore. Stop treating me like one. I'm a grown woman and if I wanna go on a fucking walk then I will."

"Don'. Don't piss me offmore than you've already done."

"Or?" Sheegged on. "What are yougonna do?Go out and find some girl to shag? Hit me again? Go for it, John, see if I care. 'Cause quite frankly I'm exhausted with your fucking attitude."

His grip turned into a pull and soon she was against his heaving breathing chest. "Eleanor Clark," he muttered, referring to her maiden name, "don't you talk back to me. I'm your husband, you hear? I own you now. It's fuckin' fine if you wanna go out but at least tell me, would ya? You could have been chopped up into little pieces for all I knew." She noticed he struggled with that last part.

"Treat me like your wife for once, John." She told him. "Just once."

He closed his eyes, sighing. "I do. I do." He said, before he began to whisper."Why does everyone keep thinkin' that I treat you like shit?"

She almost didn't want to tell him. "Because you do."

His eyes quickly left the floor hers. "I... I can't do this anymore." He said, ignoring her previous sentence.

"What?"

He sat down on the lounge, his hands shaking slightly. "I can't, not anymore."

"John?" She asked. For a minute she thought he was talking about the band, the Beatles, but he continued.

"I love you, Eleanor." He said, not looking at her, but his hands. "I need you so fuckin' much; I don't think I could live with you. You're just so... You're so... You're fuckin' perfect! Why are you so fuckin' perfect? How'd you even get so amazing?" He asked.

"John, I'm not... I'm not perfect." She said, sitting by him slowly.

"Are you kddin' me? Eleanor, Christ, luv. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, you know?" His hand reached out and played with her hair, much like George did earlier. She cancelled out the thought of George. She was with John now. She had to focus on John. "And you're so smart and lovely and fuckin' hell Eleanor, how'd I manage to win you over?"

She stared sadly at him. She'd never seen him so open before, so honest. She wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell to stop, that he was being silly and he should just go to sleep or something. But this was what she needed. This was the John Lennon she wanted and needed. He was finally being emotional, not making sarcastic comments or just being an asshole. "John, how could you of not won me over?" She laughed, trying to cheer him up. "You were so sweet to me, you still are."

"No I'm not." He quickly said back. "I'm not. What, I get ya fuckin' flowers? Yeah, that's being a good husband." He told her sarcastically.

"Oh John." She said, running a hand through his hair. She leaned forwards, kissing his cheek. "I'll always love you, John." She whispered, kissing his neck now. "I promise you, whatever happens, you'll always be the one I first fell in love with." She said, truthfully. She knew deep down that even if she did leave him for George, she'd love John. He was always going to be in her heart, in her dreams, in her mind. He was just there.

"Eleanor." He whispered as she kissed his lips.

The kiss became more urgent and before they knew it they were up in the bedroom, lying on their bed covered in white sheets. John moaned as he slipped her shoes off, her dress off, as she pulled off his jacket and tie and everything else off. Under the covers, he held her hand, kissing it over and over again.

Eleanor's eyes roamed over to the clock, noticing that it was nearly twelve,just a few more minutes until the New Year. "It's nearly '64, John." She said, as he kissed her neck hungrily.

"Mm." He moaned, not leaving her neck. "I wanna be the last one to make love to you in 1963," he whispered, "and the first to make love to you in 1964."

She felt tears stinging her eyes so he closed them, brining her close to him. "Please." She whimpered. "Please, John. I need you now. Right now."

The two made love through the New Year, hearing several cheers from outside, as well seeing the flash of fireworks by their window. They ignored it all though, their attention only focused on each other. Eleanor felt like it had been years since John last touched her like this, so she tried her hardest to savor every minute of it. He wasn't gentle and tender, not that she needed him to be, she didn't want it that way, it wasn't her first time. But he loved her throughout the entire thing. All she ever wanted was for John Lennon to love her.

* * *

Eleanor woke up late that morning, still feeling exhausted even after sleep. She turned to her side expecting to see that familiar mop top, but instead found the bed empty. She couldn't help but feel sad. Sighing, she grabbed John's dress shirt she found by the bed and put it on. It fell just above her knees and she couldn't help but smile at the size difference between the two. She always loved that he always taller than her.

Going down the stairs she saw him sitting on the lounge, same spot as last night, witching television.

She sat by him, resting her hand on his knee. "Good morning." She grinned.

"Morin'." He mumbled, eyes glued to the television screen.

She held a sigh in. "How you feeling?"

"Alright." He shrugged.

"Can you believe it's already a new year? Feels like '63 was only yesterday. Well it was, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, time goes quick." His voice still in the same uninterested tone.

Her hand traveled further up his thigh, waiting for some reaction from him. "I really enjoyed last night." She whispered, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Yeah, it was good."

Still the same...

"John?" She asked, moving closer. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He said, removing her hand. Her eyes rolled and she knew what was happening. Same old John. It was all an act, she thought. It was always a fucking act with John. These days she found it hard to believe what the truth was. She could sense a lie from him, most times it was easy. But sometimes he just wore an unreadable mask and it was horrible. Was he lying last night? Probably. Was he lying when he said she was perfect? Probably. Was he lying when he told her he loved her? Of course he fucking was.

"Are you sure?" She asked, nervous. "Last night was crazy for the both of us, John, I understand if you're feeling a little bit out of it."

"I'm not out of it." Was his reply.

"Well, you might think so, but I reall-"

"Is that my shirt?" He asked, her sentence not having its chance to finish.

"What?" She asked, her eyes showing confusion.

"My shirt, why you wearin' it?" He questioned, turning on his side to face her properly.

She looked down at the plain white dress shirt, playing with the collar. "I couldn't fnd anything else." She said, unsure of what to tell him.

"I have to wear that." He pointed out.

"I know." She said back quickly.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"I have to wear that." He repeated, his eyes staring at the shirt.

"You have plenty more, hundreds." She said.

"I have to wear that." He said once again, more sternly, more angrily, more like _John_.

"I know," She said, standing up." I'll wash it now."


	9. Can't Buy Me Love

**2/2 (: Thanks so much for the reviews you gus have been giving me! **

_chapter nine – can't buy me love_

**1964**

"Mornin' lads!" Said George, happily, walking into the room twenty minutes late with a wide grin on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" Snapped John, looking up from a piece of paper he was once reading.

George, taken aback by the question, hesitated for a moment. "It's just a lovely day, ain't it?"

John eyed him for a moment longer before turning around to the back of the room, guitar in hand. George chose to ignore John's mood and set off to sit with Paul and Ringo who were seated together by the piano. Ringo looked up and gave him a rather dark stare, while Paul shot him look matching John's. "What's with this mood, boys?" Asked George, sitting beside Paul. "Looks like I'm the only happy one today."

Paul shook his head, turning to face Ringo."So Brain said somethin' about a film? What's all that 'bout? I don't know how to bloody act."

Ringo shrugged. "Dunno, wasn't exactly payin' attention," he laughed, "the lot haven't even thought of a name yet, though."

George raised an eyebrow. "What film? We're gonna be in a film?" He asked, curiously.

Paul's head snapped in his direction. "Maybe if you weren't late you'd know."

"Was just a question, mate." He replied, trying to reason with his friend.

Paul's eyes started into his for a few minutes before gong back to Ringo. "Don't think Eppy gets that we're a band and not a bunch of actors." The two continued to speak about the movie, something about going a train, apparently, while George just there, suddenly feeling rather alone. John was obviously pissed with him, he had a reason to, but he couldn't have found out. Paul was angry and he sure as hell knew why, even though it had nothing to do with him. And Ringo, well he wasn't quite sure. Most likely Paul had told him everything. George decided not to pester the two older Beatles, and left the talking to go and speak to John. Even though he had feelings, deep feelings, for his friend's wife, he couldn't help but miss their friendship. He missed his sarcastic jokes and his impressions of all the people they hated. He missed his lyric writing and guitar playing. But most of all, he just missed John.

"You alright?" George asked as he reached John, still perched on the chair with his guitar.

"I'm fine." He mumbled back, strumming softly.

George sat beside him and watched him play. "We haven't talked in a while, have we, mate?"

"Dunno, seems like a while." He replied, not looking up to meet George.

George sighed, a hand running through his dark hair. "Well how's everything?"

"Fuckin' dandy."

"Any new songs?"

"Yeah, there's been a few."

"You hear about this film?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"...How's Eleanor?" George asked, not too sure if he should actually ask.

"What?" John snapped quickly, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

"How's the wife?" George shrugged.

John's hand gripped the guitar tighter but his eyes remained the same. "She's fine."

George nodded. "That's good."

"It's fuckin' great!" He said, too sarcastically, before dropping his guitar freely, letting it land on the floor. He got up and shot George one last look before walking out of the room.

There was an awkward silence before George broke it. He knew what he had to, act like he knew nothing, pretend he had no idea what the hell was wrong with John. Who actually knew, anyway? John and Paul only had their suspicions, and Ringo just seemed to tag along with Paul. "Christ, what's his problem?" He asked aloud.

"What the fuck did you say to him?" Yelled Paul, standing up and walking over to George.

"I didn't say anything." He replied, holding his hands up in defense.

Paul scoffed. "Well clearly you said somethin' to piss him off."

"Calm down, Paulie," George replied, "you know how John is."

"Yes, I know how fuckin' John is." Paul yelled back. "He's me mate, I know."

"Paul, relax, will ya? John's just being the usual arse he is, leave him to it."

"I know what's goin' on, George." Paul said.

George sighed. "What, Paul? What is going on?"

"You and Eleanor, I've seen the way you look about her, the way you talk about her." Said Paul. "Just back off, mate. Just bac koff."

"Oh come off it,"George said, rolling his eyes. "You really think I'm that much of a bastard?"

Paul sighed deeply before speaking. "As much as I'd hate to say it, but yes, George, I do." That struck something in him. Yes, he felt bad about what he was doing, but he didn't want to lose friendships over it. He loved her, he needed her, he knew she was worth it all, but still, the guilt was rising over.

"Come on, Paul." Said George, hoping he'd convince him thathe was being an idiot. Paul shook his head. "Ringo?" He asked, looking down at the drummer who had been awfully quiet throughout the entire argument. Ringo shook his head as well.

"Boys, come on. You know me, don't ya? I'd never do that." It didn't seem to to work, as the two had the same look on their faces. "Listen," he said, pulling up a stool and sitting on it. "I admit, I feel something for Eleanor. She's lovely, who wouldn't? But I wouldn't try anything on with her. I like the bird, but that's it. I'm not gonna go and steal her away from one of my mates. I love John more than I love her." He lied, however he hoped that his speech would work and they'd forget about it.

Ringo was the first to speak. "Sorry, Georgie," he spoke softly. "Just don't want John to lose 'er, her really does love the girl."

Paul nodded slowly. "Yeah, sorry." He muttered.

George smiled at his friends. "It's fine, lads. I can see why you're so worked up about it."

Paul looked behind his shoulder, his eyes on the door. "Think I'll go check on John." He told them.

* * *

Paul found John outside the room, sitting down on the floor. His back was pressed against the wall and his eyes were closed. Paul bit his lip before sinking to the floor next to him. "You alright?" He asked.

John shook his head. Paul expected him to shout, possibly get violent, but he seemed rather content. "You wanna talk about it, mate?" John shook his head again. Paul sighed, resting his hand on his shoulder. "Come on, John. Cheer up."

"I can't." He muttered. "I can't anymore."

"Ya can't what?" Paul asked, not exactly sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I can't keep hurtin' her." He said.

"Eleanor?"

John nodded. "Eleanor. Christ, I love her. But I can't...I keep hurtin' her, Paul, I can't help it. There's just something so good about seeing her cry. I wake up in the mornin' and it's like I think of ways of fuckin' hurting her."

Paul chose to ignore how fucked in the head that sounded. "It'll be okay, mate. You'll work it out, you'll see."

"No," he whispered. "No, it won't. She's gonna find someone else. She's gonna find someone who will treat her right and forget all about me."

"Don't think like that." Paul said. "No good comes from thinking like that."

"Well it's the truth. It's the fuckin' truth."

Paul stared at his friend, his eyes still closed. "John, it'll be okay. You'll change. You love Eleanor, don't you?"

John nodded quickly. "Of course."

"Then think about her. Think about how much you love her. I know you need her, about what'll happen when she leaves you."

John's eyes suddenly opened, a look of horror on his face. "Don't even...I can't even think about that."

Paul nodded. "That could happen, John."

"I don't want it to."

"Then don't let it, hey." Paul said, trying to encourage John to change. Even he thought he was treating Eleanor too poorly, and now that he found out George wasn't the ass he thought he was, John and Eleanor could completely start over and it would all be okay.

"I told you, Paul," John replied, sounding frustrated. "I can't help but break her. Believe me, I tried, and it almost fuckin' worked the other night, but I fucked it right up."

"What'd you do?" He asked, curious.

"I..." John started, almost looking as if he couldn't finish. "I was just a prick, Paul. She came home and I just...I yelled at her, asking her where she was. And then we eventually sorted it out, well sort of, and we went upstairs and we made love and then-"

"You what?" Paul asked.

John raised an eyebrow. "Aye?'

"You said ya two made love."

John shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Well, it's just..." Paul's voice trailed off, feeling slightly awkward. "Well whenever you talked about doin' that with her, you know, you always told me you just fucked her. Wasn't expectin' ya to tell me you made love to her."

"Does that mean I'm gettin' better?" He asked quickly, moving so he wasn't leaning against the wall anymore.

Paul smiled. "Yes, John, you're getting better."

John's eyes narrowed. "I don't think I am."

"Well-"

"You should of seen me after it, in the mornin'." John said, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

Now Paul closed his eyes."You didn't...You didn't hit her again, did you?" He questioned, dreading the answer.

"No!" John replied loudly. "No,I haven't done that for a while."

"That's good."Paul told him. John shrugged. "You're getting better."

John shook his head, biting his lip. "I yelled at her for wearin' my fuckin' shirt."

"What?" Paul scoffed.

"She was wearin' one of my fucking hundreds of shirts, and I told her not too. Well I didn't exactly yell, but I was a right bastard."

"You didn't yell?" Paul asked.

"No." John replied.

"You're getting better."


	10. A Hard Day's Night

**Really, thank you all so much for the comments you guys have bee giving me. Means a lot. (:**

_a hard day's night– chapter ten_

**1964**

"John?" He heard a voice say. "John, honey, wake up." He felt his shoulder being nudged a little and his eyes opened to the sight of a smiling Eleanor.

"You alright? You're 'bit of a kip' turned into four hours." She laughed. John rubbed his eyes before turning to look at the clock to see that it was three thirty in the afternoon. "Lunch is ready, you're hungry, right?"

John nodded, still not quite fully woken up from his sleep. His hair was tussled and his eyes were blurry, he didn't even remember falling asleep."Yeah, I am."

"Brain called earlier, by the way. Something about Ringo coming up with a name, I can't really remember, sorry." Eleanor said, as the two stepped into the kitchen. John wasn't at all concerned with Brain or Ringo, he thought, as he sat down at the table.

"It's fine, luv, thanks." He mumbled as she handed him his meal.

"You okay?" She asked, sitting down. "Thought that sleep would wake you up a bit."

"Yeah, I'm just...I'm a bit out of it, I s'pose." He shrugged.

"Oh, are you feeling ill?" She asked, leaning over and checking to see if he had a fever.

"I'm fine, darling." He said with a laugh, taking her hand a away before kissing it.

She smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Well, what's wrong then?"

John wasn't sure how to answer. Oh, just fearing that you're gonna leave me for one of my mates, not much. "I love you, you know that?" He told her, feeling like he should try another approach. Paul had been helping him try and get better, trying to get him to hold his anger inside. Let it out in a song, not your wife, he'd say. He was trying. Christ, he was trying. They hadn't been fighting and he couldn't even remember the last time he cheated on her. He felt like their marriage was new, like they were starting over again.

She laughed, "I love you too, John."

"I mean it." He insisted. "Please don't ever think that I don't need you, luv, 'cause I do."

Eleanor gave him a sad smile. "I know, John. And I need you just much as you need me."

He sighed. "I'm not just sayin' it to make you happy, I love you." He said, truthfully. He wasn't quite sure if she believed him, after all, he had told her he loved her plenty of times just to make her happy so he could leave the house and go out to a club with the rest of the lads. But this time, he meant it, straight from the heart. Yes, it was almost out of fear. He was scared if he didn't tell her then she'd get those words from George. He wasn't even sure if they were seeing each other behind his back, but he had this terrible feeling that if he treated her bad one last time then she'd run of with him. Right now he didn't even care if his friendship with George was to end: if anyone, it would be _his_ fault, you don't try it one with your mate's wife.

Eleanor moved closer, scooting her chair over so she was closer to him. "John, I know you mean it." She said, caressing his cheek. "Don't think that I don't know."

"I just worry about us." He admitted.

"Me too," she told him, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I don't go a day where I don't worry about us. But don't ever let that upset you, okay?"

"Can't help it, luv."

She leaned into his neck, resting her hands on his chest. "I love you, John. We both need each other, so why would we have the need to leave each other?"

"You certainly do," he whispered, resting his chin on top of her head. "How many times have I hurt you?"

"That's in the past." She said.

"I don't care, past, present or fuckin' future - I've hurt you." He told her the truth. Everyone knew that. He wasn't the first to admit it but he knew.

"I don't care." She said into his chest.

"Liar," he said, "I've made you cry, yell, scream, you obviously care."

"Not as much as you think. You're in a band, that's what bands do." She continued. "Bands hurt their wives."

"But it's not...it's not right." He said, holding her tighter. He felt a hit to the heart when he tried to remember the last time he held her like this. His mind said it was a long time ago, before the Beatles were a household name, before he turned into a total jackass. Before they were married? No, it certainly wasn't that long ago. Before the first album came out? That seemed too close, too good to be true. He couldn't evenremember. Then he thought about George and how he would of treated Eleanor. He bet he'd hold her every time they were together, he'd hold her hand and kiss her and hug and tell her he loved her. Because he meant it and it made her happy, the way it should be. Of course he did that. He'd do all of that and she'd fall more and more in love. If it was all true, then John could see why she'd run off to him: John was a terrible husband. He was careless with her feelings, toying with her heart and mind. He was surprised he hadn't sent herto a mental hospital yet. Everything he did to her for years was for pure enjoyment, he knew she'd come back. He was all she had. Her mother had died at birth, so she didn't have her. Her father was at work most of the time, even worse when she was growing up. AndJ ohn wasn't even quite sure what had happened with her sister, Mary. So John knew that even though he cheated on her and hit her and treated her less than dirt, she would come running back tohim. _Always_. But he was beginning to fear that comfort was now gone. She'd just go running to George now, even if he hadn't hurt her.

"It doesn't matter, John," she continued. "It's just something that...happens. It just happens."

"I want to change, Eleanor, I want to be better." He whispered. "I want you to always love me."

"I always will," she assured. "Where is this coming from? Is this you've been so distant lately?"

"That and other things." He muttered.

"Well just don't worry, okay?" She said,wrapping her arms further around his neck before resting them on his shoulders, as he pulled her closer, sitting her on his lap. "Please stop being so scared that you'll lose me."

"It's the truth though, right? I've hurt you. I always hurt you."

"John," she muttered, "you're upsetting me."

"I don'tmean to, luv. I'm just worried that one day...you'll wake up and leave me." He whispered.

"I won't." Came her almost muffled reply.

"Am I getting better, Eleanor?" He asked. "Am I treating you better?" Eleanor stared at him with confused eyes, and John knew she didn't have a clue whathe was on about. "Am I being a better husband?"

"You were always a good husband, John." She said, gripping his hand. "Stop worrying."

"Eleanor, please!" He yelled, startling her, as he felt her jump in her arms. "Be honest! Don't lie to me, Eleanor, tell me how much I've hurt you." He didn't mean to scream, but it seemed the only way to get her to give home some other answer, to tell him the truth.

"John," she whimpered. "Why would you wanna hear that?"

"Because, I need to know how you really feel, I need to know if you hate me."

"I could never hate you," she said, sounding surprised.

"I need to know if you've fallen in love with someone else." He wasn't going to say straight out the he thought her and George had something going on, but a small hint couldn't hurt.

John could of sworn he saw a hint of worry in her eyes, but chose to throw it away, he was just seeing things. "Well?" He encouraged when she didn't answer.

She moved in a kissed him, her hands resting on his chest. He kissed back, pulling back for a second before pushing his lips against hers again. His hands were soft and gentle in her dark brown hair. "Eleanor, tell me you haven't fallen in love with someone else." He still didn't get a reply, instead she began kissing him again and he couldn't help but give into her. He kissed her neck and took in her sweet scent, he couldn't quite name it, she just smelled genuinely sweet and it just made him want her more. He pulled her closer, his hands suddenly becoming sweaty when she let go. He needed her now, he was wondering she had pulled away. "Eleanor, please luv."

"I love you, John." She whispered into his ear. "I haven't fallen in love with anyone else." She got up off his lap, sitting back down in her chair. "Eat your lunch, I only slaved for hours making it."

* * *

"Luv, help me with my tie, will ya?" John asked, pulling on the end of his tie, trying to get right.

Eleanor laughed coming over and tying it for him. "There you go." She smiled, patting it down with her hand. "So what time does Brain want us there?"

John rolled his eyes. "Nine. For a bloody dinner party."

She laughed, fixing his collar. "Sounds fun to me."

"Excuse to dress up, eh?" He joked, as she left laughing to grab her shoes. He wasn't exactly in a happy mood, he was dreading seeing George, he certainly didn't want to see if his wife and mate were shooting each other quick little winks and smiles at dinner. He just wanted to stay home, like every other night these days, and spend time with Eleanor.

"I'm ready," she cheered, after putting her heels on and grabbing her coat. "And you've messed up your collar again." She laughed softly, setting her bag down and straightening it.

"Let's just stay in, darling." He said, inches from her face with her hands on his shirt.

Eleanor gave him a sad smile. "What happened to Mr. Lennon the party animal, hm?" She joked.

"Dinner parties aren't proper fuckin' parties, you know I don't like that stuff." He said his hands sliding to her waist when she was done. "Let's just say I'm sick or something, yeah?"

"John," she laughed, buttoning up her black coat. "be more social, will you?"

"This is what you get for marrying a Beatle, luv." He winked, grabbing her hand.

* * *

Eleanor wasn't quite sure how to handle any of this. John had taken a completely new turn, he was still the sarcastic, quick witted John she knew, but he was being _nice._ It wasn't just awkward, it was beginning to worry her. Was there something wrong with him? Was he sick? Was he having yet another affair? Not that she could actually become angry when it came to that certain point: her and George had been carrying on for weeks. They still hadn't slept together, but when she was with him she felt like the most special girl on Earth. The way he treated he rwas filled with nothing but love. John had only started recently acting like that, and even then she had no clue where it had suddenly come from.

"Did I tell you look amazin' tonight?" She felt her husband whisper in her ear.

She smiled, blushing slightly. "Thanks."

"So, boys, you've all heard about the movie, correct? Filming will start next week, so please try and stay out of trouble until then, I don't want anyone getting hurt." Brain instructed, making his words much more stern with the knife in his hand, as he had stopped cutting the potatoes on his plate to talk.

"Yes, Eppy," said John, not sounding too interested. "Put us all in a bubble, won't ya, lad?"

Brain ignored him, muttering something under his breath. "So, luv, how about we skip this, hey. Spend the rest of the night in bed..." He murmured quietly so only she could her, and gently resting his hand on her thigh. She blushed even more, and thanked Brain silently that he had put a large cloth on top of the table, so no one could see where his hand was.

She looked up from her leg to see that George was sitting across from her. She hadn't talked to him all night and she felt somewhat bad when she saw the look in his eyes. He just looked genuinely sad, and she couldn't help but feel responsible. She tried to ignore him, hoping that maybe if she did so then this situation would vanish, and none of it would have ever happened. Of course, it didn't.

"So, what do you say?" Whispered John.

"Maybe we could stay a bit longer?" She asked, just as low as raised an eyebrow but smiled, kissing her on the cheek, and turning around to talk to Ringo on his left.

She slowly diverted her eyes to meet George's, but instead he was talking to Paul. Fuck it, she thought. She needed to talk with him, and she wasn't gonna let anyone stop her this time. She was sick of being a constant people pleaser; it was about time she realised that her happiness was an option too, she was allowed to smile and laugh. She slowly nudged her leg closer to George's, gently giving it a slight kick. He quickly shot her a look and she ran a hand through her hair, while doing so pointing to the left as quickly as she could, in the direction of the bathroom. He nodded, his eyes taking a quick glance at her then back to Paul.

"Just going to the bathroom, excuse me. " She smiled, pushing her chair back slightly to leave. "The left, right, Brian?"

"Yes, dear." He replied.

She waited in there for exactly seven minutes before she heard the rapid knocking on the door. Opening it, she saw George standing there, almost looking nervous. "George," she said, moving, allowing him to come in.

"Hi." He muttered, stepping inside.

She closed the door and sighed, this wasn't as easy she thought it would be. "How are you, George?"

"I'm fine." He shrugged. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

She sighed, leaning against the door. "I dunno..." She trailed off. "I think me and John are, you know, getting things together?" She wasn't too sure how to say it.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

"It means that you and me can't really..."

"What?" He snapped. "Can't see each other anymore?"

"I just want what's best for John, Georgie." She whispered.

"What about me?" He sounded angry.

"Me and John are married, George. You have to understand that he needs me."

"I need you too." He said, his hands in his pants pockets. "I'm nothing now, am I?"

"No, George," she said, stepping closer. "John is changing. He's so sweet now, he loves me. But he need sme, George. He'd lost his father, his mother - he can't lose me. I couldn't do that to him."

"You're hurtin' me too, though!" He yelled. "You're just gonna forget all about me, are you?"

"Please don't do this me," she muttered. "I don't wanna hurt anyone, Georgie. I want everyone to be happy-"

"That can't happen." He cut in. "Eleanor, you know I care about ya. A lot. I'm not gonna let you walk out on what we have."

"What we have?" She exclaimed. "George, this isn't a relationship, it's just..."

"What is it, Eleanor? Are you telling me you don't care about this? All this time we've spent together, huh, what happened to that?" He asked, stepping closer to her.

She quickly placed her hands on his. "George, please. I'm married to John. He might not be the perfect husband but he's perfectfor me. He can't keep losing people, George, he can''s not right, and I'm not the kind of person who'd do that to him. Please, just think about John. Think about what he'll go through."

"He'll be fine," George snapped. "He'll find someone else."

"I don't want him to."

George sighed loudly. "Eleanor, what's happenin', luv?" He asked, his eyes and voice softening. "Please tell me, we can fix it."

"George, I want to see you, I really do. You're perfect, George, please don't think I don't wanna be with you. I do. I really do. And trust me, if me and John weren't together I'd be with you in an instant."

"But?"

"But," she carried on. "We can't have everything."

"Eleanor, please," he begged. "I need you more than him."

"Georgie, you'll find someone. You're George Harrison, you'll meet someone and they'll love you." She said,closing her eyes.

"Eleanor, don't do this." He whispered, his lips inches from hers. She felt his hot breath on her neck and she almost gave into him.

"We can't." She closed her eyes tight; she was trying to fight off her tears.

"Eleanor, I can make you happy. Haven't I already?" He asked, his hands clinging to her arms.

"George, I promise you, you'll find someone." She nodded, trying to convince him.

"I don't want anyone else!" He screamed. She was afraid someone might of heard so she decided then that she should leave.

"George, I'm so sorry," she whispered, opening the door. "Please don't hate me."

* * *

As if it wasn't bad enough already. Eleanor needed nothing more right now than som reassuring words, someone she could vent to. She was indeed in love with John, and George certainly made her feel special: so who should she stay with? John, the man who had hurt her so many times over the years, more times than she could remember. The man who had broken her heart on several occasions, treated like she was nobody, and made her feel useless. Or the man who had suddenly come into her life and filled it with nothing but love and hope, and actually made her feel like she deserved happiness for once in her life. She didn't have a clue. At the end of the day, she was still going to be Mrs. Eleanor Lennon, in love with her husband, slowly falling for his best friend, and either way, someone was going to get hurt.


	11. Tell Me Why

**1/2 (:**

_chapter eleven – tell me why_

**1964**

If there was one thing George knew it was that he had fallen in love. Yet Eleanor seemed to be pushing him away. He understood she wanted to keep John happy, everyone wanted to keep John happy. But what about him? Wasn't George allowed to be happy? He treated her good, better than John, better than her own fucking husband.

"George, stop day dreaming, son! Your scene is coming up!" George turned to see someone yelling at him, he had no idea who it was but obeyed anyway. They were filming A Hard Day's Night, but all he wanted to do was go home. He didn't need to be here.

He had arrived a little over an hour ago and they messed with his hair and suit and sent him to wait, which was where he was before he was called. He never realised how boring the making of a film could be.

George made his way to where John, Paul and Ringo were, where a bunch of girls were, all stood, clustered were all huddled together, laughing and smiling at whatever the other said. He joined them, getting a glare from John and a few stares from the girls.

"Right, now that you're all here," the man that yelled at him earlier said, "we can start filming. Everything is set up, just sit with your instruments and look good, alright?" His eyes focused on them all and he clutched a folder in his hand. "Don't mess this up, alright boys? You might be the Beatles but you aren't actors, so do good."

Everyone nodded except John and they were led into a small area, where also, instruments were set up. They were instructed on what was going to happen and how long they had and they were off, singing along as if being a Beatle was the best position in the world.

George noticed a young girl with large eyes; she was beautiful, with blonde hair that shined whenever the lights hit it. For the first time in months he had thought about another girl that wasn't Eleanor. He was surprised with himself - for a long time his mind was simply set on Eleanor and making her his. But all of a sudden, he couldn't help but stare and be mesmerised by this woman he had no idea existed until now. He watched as she giggled and pulled at her hair, and he fond it cute, somewhat adorable.

When they were done Brian rushed out to greet them, filling their ears with "you were great, boys!" and "keep it up, keep it up!" They all left, Paul and John laughing about something while Ringo was busy talking to someone about his lines. George stopped where a few tables were set up with food and he saw her, the blonde, standing there alone.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he made his way to her. "You were great, luv." He complimented.

She blushed, her cheeks turning red in a second. It reminded George of Eleanor for a minute but he shook the thought away. "Oh, thanks."

He winked, placing his hand on the table. "So, you're gonna tell me your name, darlin'?"

She smiled up at him, nodding. "I'm Pattie." She whispered.

"I'm George," he said, kissing her hand. "Tell me, Pattie, a pretty bird like you must be seeing someone."

She nodded slowly. "I am, actually."

George was expecting a no, but carried on. "Well, we can't have the lad waitin' up for you, can we?"

"No, he wouldn't like that much," she whispered.

"Mm, shame. Well I can say now that the boy's lucky." George didn't know what was no intoxicating about her. She was a pretty girl, and she seemed sweet and kind. She had that something, that something that kept him mesmerised. Much like Eleanor. For a moment he felt guilty, like he was cheating on Eleanor, betraying her trust. He felt like John for a split second, a split second he never wanted to feel again. He forgot her, he wasn't with her, they weren't together, they weren't married. She ended it, George, he told himself, forget about her and what she did to you. He turned his attention back to Pattie.

She blushed again, biting her lip. "Thank you, George." She said. "Do you mind...Do you mind if I, um, get your autograph? And some for my sisters as well, we're all huge fans."

George nodded, reaching over to grab a pen on the table. He purposely brushed her arm, he wanted her to want him, not the other way around. He watched her blush again before speaking. "Of course, luv. Anything for a pretty lady."

George had signed the autographs and flirted with Pattie some more. He managed to win her number and he was pretty sure he won her heart. He sat by Ringo who was softly banging one drum stick on the table in front of him, while John and Paul talked.

"Christ, those birds are lovely, aren't they?" Paul exclaimed, looking over his shoulder and past the crew who were huddled together. "Especially that blonde one."

George waited for John to make some kind of comment to prove thathe hadn't really changed, to prove Eleanor wrong, and then she come back to him. She had hurt him with her words. He knew why she did what she did, but still, it hurt and now he wanted to hurt her. He cringed. No, stop. That's not right. You're not John. _You're not John._ You're George.

John shrugged. "Alright, I s'pose." He said, cigarette between his lips.

Paul looked at him surprised, as did George. Paul's eyes quickly diverted his eyes to George's and he saw that the older Beatle dripped triumph: he got what he wanted. John had changed, or so he thought. That small gesture must of proved something. Paul's eyes gleamed with excitement, while George's dropped with sadness. Who the fuckwas he kidding? He wanted Eleanor back. She wasn't exactly his to start with but he had her in more ways than John did. A kiss from her sent him crazy, the way she said his name, the way she touched his hair, his hands, his skin. But at the same time Pattie seemed so...So innocent, so new. He needed someone and it seemed she was his only option. Christ, he was confused. Couldn't' John of just gone back to being an asshole? Couldn't he start cheating on her again and just treat her bad, a few slaps wouldn't hurt, right? And she must of been used to him being with other girls...

Was it right to think this way? No. Of course not. But it made so much sense. If John treated her bad, she'd come back to him. And if he got with Pattie, she'd want him even more. She'd be jealous, wouldn't she? Then things would go back to the way they were meant to be. They way things always should be.

* * *

George danced with Pattie happily, his eyes scanning Pattie's body as she twirled, laughing up at him. She was wearing a pink dress and looked lovely, and he had to restrain himself from taking her home with him. Tonight was about the start of getting Eleanor back, which meant focusing on her. He had to trick people and he knew he'd probably be hated for it, but it was for love. Love certainly makes you do crazy things, no matter how many people you hurt. Fight for what you want and get it, and George was doing exactly that: he was going to get Eleanor back, even if it meant fucking over John and Pattie.

"Pattie, darlin', let me get you a drink." He offered, whispering into her.

"Oh, please, George." She smiled. "A coke, ta."

"Meet you by the lounge, yeah?" He winked at her and watched her walk back over to sit with the rest of the boys. He got her drink, but on the way stopped by John. He just got off the pay phone and turned to face George.

"Oh," he said. "Didn't see ya there." George shrugged. "You been alright?" He asked.

George was taken aback by his sudden question, but answered anyway. "I've been better."

John raised an eyebrow. "It's all good?"

George knew he was trying his hardest not to show his concern, so a simple "it's all good?" was typical from him. "I'm good. Yeah, just a bit...A bit lonely, I s'pose."

John eyes widened a bit and George regretted what he had said. He didn't exactly have to the most open and personal friendship with John, especially lately.

"Lonely?" John asked, leaning against the wall.

"Well, yeah," George whispered. "You're not exactly me best mate anymore, Paul's bein' a prick and Ringo's been ignorin' me for a while."

John nodded slowly. "That's what ya get for bein' a wanker, you know?"

George sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I know mate - don't think I deserve any of it, though, I ain't done a thing wrong."

John's eyes narrowed. "You been eyein' me wife."

George shook his head. "I admit it, John, I like the her. But that's it. I wouldn't try anything. Me mates come before birds, hey. There's plenty of them about." He lied. It was easier than he thought.

John nodded, hands too now in his pockets, "I justworry about 'er a lot."

George nodded. "I would too."

John shook his head. "I don't think you understand how much I need the girl."

George didn't exactly want him to carry on, he didn't need to hear how much he loved Eleanor. That would just make things worse. "I need to find Pattie." He said, remembering he still had her drink in his hand.

John gave a nod before taking off into the crowd. George found Pattie laughing with a brunette. He quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "So I was gone for a while, luv. The line was as big as England."

Pattie smiled, "It's fine," she said, grabbing the glass. "Thanks, George."

George nodded, sitting by her and allowing the two girls to chat. George looked for John in the crowd, for some sign that he was turning back into the asshole that he once was. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he'd have to change John.

* * *

George had noticed that John had been a tad drunk when he last saw him. He was swaying and laughing a lot - a clear sign that he was a bit off. George excused himself from Pattie, saying he needed the bathroom. He got up and found John by the bar talking to someone.

"John!" George exclaimed, sitting by him.

"Georgie, my mate," he laughed. He had obviously hada lot more since before."Join me in the celebrations, yeah?"

George laughed. "What we celebrating?"

John grinned. "Us bein' the richest bastards in this club!" He exclaimed, raising his glass high above his head.

George smiled, ordering a drink. "Best thing to celebrate if you ask me."

Three drinks later and George knew that John was wasted. He almost fell off his stool a few times and he could of sworn he hard him mutter some Elvis lyrics under his breath.

John suddenly stood up, almost falling over, clutching the stool to keep his balance. "I'm off now, lad."

"Oh, stay some more," George encouraged. "Why you wanna leave so early?"

John shrugged, leaning against the counter separating the customers from the bar tenders. "Had too much, I think. I need a kip and all."

George gave his shoulder a good shake. "Ah, stay a bit longer."

John shook his head. "I really shouldn't."

"Don't go soft on me, Johnny."

John grinned. "I ain't goin' soft, son."

"Then fuckin' stay." George said, not the least it drunk. He was buzzing a small amount, but that was it.

He shook his head again. "Don't think so, mate. I'll see you tomorrow, right? Another day of bein' famous stars in films, hm?"

George grabbed his drink, pushing it into John's face. "You wanna be a famous film star?"

"I wanna be everything!"

"Then stay and drink with me," George winked.

John laughed, leaning against the counter. "Bartender, gimme the best bitter you've got into this place."

He got his order a minute later, downing the drink down in a few seconds. He grinned, sitting back down and wrapping an arm around George's shoulders. "I missed ya, you know that?"

George nodded, noticing g a few girls on his left who were staring and giggling. He turned to face John. "Check out those birds." He gestured over to them.

John moved, looking at them for a second. "What 'bout them?"

George sighed. "They want ya, mate. Especially that taller one."

John shrugged. "Doesn't really bother me."

George ran a hand through his hair. "Come on, she's makin' the eyes at ya. You gotta do somethin'."

John shrugged again. "She ain't that pretty."

"Look at those legs, lad."

"I've seen better." He muttered, playing with tie.

George bit his lip, trying not to show that he was frustrated. It was never like this before: John would usual jump at any girl that had a pair of long legs, what was so different about this time? He was drunk too, his mind must of been warped by now. "Liar, come on, look at what she's wearin' as wel-"

John's eyes darkened. "Don't do this to me, Georgie." He said, cutting off his sentence."

"Eh?"

"I'm tryin' not to...not to be such a...such a prick to Eleanor. So just...Don't make me...Just don't." John whispered. It was hard to him over the loud noise of the music and people talking, but his words were clear was crystal in George's hard. His was making this much harder for him, but he couldn't let that stop him.

"I understand that, but she's just a bird, eh? Have some fun." He replied.

John stared at him, then the girls, then back to George again. "Nah, not worth it."

George clenched his fist. "John, come on, mate. Who's Eleanor to tell you what to do?"

John looked down. "George, I can't keep messin' with her."

"What more time couldn't hurt, hey. Get it outta your system, one last time." George said, trying to convince.

"I dunno…"

"For old times sake, eh?" He persuaded.

John looked back at them, one of them shooting a wink and smile his way. "…She's good lookin' but-"

"But what?" George asked. "You just said it yourself, she's a looker."

John stood up slowly, and George thought for a moment he was just going to leave. But he gave him a pat on the back two times before speaking. "For old times sake." He agreed. George nodded, watching him walk over to her, swiftly wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt bad. Christ, _did he feel bad_. But this was the only way. It would all work out eventually. Hearts would be broken but he knew he had to do it. But now Eleanor would be his again, right?

George was about to finish his drink when he saw John come back to him. His eyes were dark and he looked angry. "I can't do this!" He yelled.

George set the glass down quickly and stood up. "Do what? Relax, mate."

"I love Eleanor! I love 'er and I don't wanna hurt 'er." He slurred.

"Just...Just don't think of 'er and do it. It's not like she'll find out-"

"What the hell are you doin' to him?" Came a voice. It was Paul, and he looked almost as angry as John. "Don't do that, George, you know he's fuckin' gone, let him go home."

"I wanna marry Eleanor!" Said John. Clearly he had too much to drink, as he already had the ring on his finger.

"Clam down, Chirst." George exclaimed. He wasn't exactly expecting Paul to get invovled. "He's just drunk."

Paul shook his head, grabbing John's arm, pulling him away. "He's not just drunk he's...He's John _and _he's drunk. That's a bloody bad combination and you know it."

"I just... I wanted him to have a bit ofa laugh."

Ringo suddnely appeared and Paul instrcuted him to take him home safely. Ringo looked on oddly for amoment, but did as he was told. Paul turned to face George, looking disappointed. "Why are you doin' this?" He whispered.

George bit his lip. "I love her."

"Don't. What about Pattie?" Paul asked.

"I don't want Pattie like I want Eleanor."

"Exactly!" Paul exclaimed. "You want, you just _want _her, you don't need her, not like John needs Eleanor."

"I need her too!" George yelled. "Paul, I lover her."

"Don't George," Paul pleaded. "Please just - just try and move on. Forget about. Get away, go on a holiday. Just fuck off and forget her, alright?"

"I can't do that," he muttered. "It's not that easy."

Paul rubbed his eyes. "Please, , don't make me beg. John might be a bastard but he doesn't deserve this."

George sat back down,defeated. "I love her."

"Have you told her?" Paul questioned.

He shook his head. "She don't love me back, I'm sure of it."

Paul sat by him. "Then don't waste your name on her, yeah? Pattie likes ya, the birdis already bloody smitten. I asked if she wanted to dance and all she did was bloody chat about you."

"Really?" He asked.

Paul nodded. "Doesn't George have the prettiest hair? Doesn't George look good tonight? Isn't George adorable?" He laughed. "You're all she fuckin' talks about."  
George couldn'thelp but was a good bird...But Eleanor was better. "She's lovely."

"She is," he agreed. "Focus on her, okay?"

"I"ll try." He said. "I will, I will."


	12. If I Fell

**2/2 Sorry that it's been a while since I've posted anything new, but school and work and everything else is getting in the way D: But school holidays are in a couple weeks, and I should be able to write plenty for this story. Thanks so much for every single comment you guys send, they really do make my day. Also, to answer a few questions:** _Sweeneysbestfriend__ –_ **I didn't name that chapter 'Getting Better', because I want the chapter names to be in that time period. So for now all the early song titles will be used, but I definitely have 'Getting Better' planned for a future chapter (: **_HermioneLennon__ – _**I will for sure be doing a chapter in a different person's point of view, I was actually thinking either Paul's or Ringo's, most likely Paul's, though (: Once again, thanks so much for all the comments, and I hope you're all enjoying these chapters.**

_chapter twelve – if I fell_

**1964**

Months had past, and _A Hard Day's Night_ was released. The Beatles were now on their way to the after party, and George straightened his tie before stepping outside of the car into the cold, crisp air. He immediately rubbed his arms from the strength of the weather, which were now sore from all the people grabbing him at his sides. The crowd was loud, the screaming girls wailing their hearts out as he and the three other Beatles walked past. He grinned, giving them a quick wave, before being pushed into the warmth of the large lobby which he was grateful for. His eyes scanned the room mostly filled with people he had never met, and wondered how many of them had actually seen the movie, or here just to get a glimpse of the Beatles.

"Alright, boys, let's look a little more alive," said Brain, his hands neatly tucked behind his back. "You've just made your first film - let's look happy!"

George nodded meekly, not really paying attention to Brain at all. Eventually his mind had left him as Brain continued to talk about where they'd be sitting in the restaurant. George's head quickly snapped to the right when he saw her: Eleanor, her dark hair in neat, loose curls, her lips a light, natural colour and a pale pink dress wrapped around her body. John's hand rubbed her small shoulder, and his thoughts were cut off when he felt a nudge in his left shoulder.

"What?" He asked, turning to face Paul.

"Where's Pattie?" Paul asked.

He shrugged. "I don't bloody know."

"You said you were gonna be her date tonight, didn't ya?"

George sighed. "Yeah, and?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Don't think she'd like it if you were staring at other birds like that."

George looked back at Eleanor and John before focusing his attention back on Paul. "Shut up, will ya? I'm tryin' to forget about 'er."

"Well stop lookin' at her." Came Paul's voice quick and harsh.

"Paul, honestly, you don't know what it's like to be in love." He explained.

Paul scoffed. "You ain't in love, you're just bloody infatuated."

George shook his head. "Paul, just don't."

Paul gripped George's shoulder, pulling him away from the large crowd. "George, how is this gonna help anyone? You're gonna break up Eleanor and John, breakup the fucking Beatles, and there's a good chance you ain't gonna have any mates left."

"It has nothing to do with you," George muttered. "I know you care about John, but that's a completely different story."

"Jesus Christ, what's got you so bloody crazy? She's a pretty bird, yeah, but she ain't fuckin' Brigitte."

George rolled his eyes. "Just... Just sod off. Thisis my business, right?"

"Fine, fuck it all up." Paul muttered before walking off.

George smiled when he saw Pattie walking up to him. "Pattie, darlin', how are you?"

She blushed, tucking a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm fine, thank you. Yourself?" The two carried on conversing, with George eyeing Eleanor up every time he got the chance.

"George, I was wondering... Maybe we could, go out to the pictures, or something?" She whispered.

"What?" George asked, his mind was completely somewhere else.

Pattie bit her lip. "Pictures? Maybe? Together?"

"Oh," George said, feeling bad for not listening to her. "Can't exactly go down to the pictures anymore, luv." He smiled.

She blushed. "Oh, right. Almost forgot you were a Beatle."

He laughed. "Maybe a meal together?" He questioned, looking over at Eleanor once more, who seemed to be attached to hip with John tonight. She stared at him for a moment, giving him a small smile which he didn't return.

"Yeah, that sounds lovely." She smiled.

George couldn't help but let his mind wonder over to John's wife once more - this wasn't normal, you don't fall for one of your mate's wife. He stared at her once more, this time noticing that her eyes were firmly locked onto his own. She ran a hand through her hair two times, a signal they had thought of earlier if they wanted to speak to each other in private. George hesitated for a moment, but nodded once, which she did too. "Pattie, luv, I need to speak to Brian." He lied, walking off to where the bathrooms were.

He waited outside for a few minutes before Eleanor turned up. She smiled nervously, waving at him. "What did you wanna talk about?"

"Nothing really," she murmured, leaning against the wall. "I just missed you, really."

"Well that's your fault." He snapped.

She looked taken aback but continued. "You know why I did it."

George shook his head. "No, I bloody well don't-"

"I can't hurt John." She cut him off.

"You hurt me, though!" He yelled. "Ya can do that though, right?"

She sighed. "Don't do that, George. I didn't want to hurt anyone, I told you that."

"That's not possible, you have to!" George retorted.

"What am I supposed to do?" She asked.

George stepped closer to her. "I don't…What do you want?"

"I want John to love me, George," she murmured. "But I want you to love me too."

"You can't have us both." He groaned. He never knew how hard a relationship was going to be. He wanted her, she wanted John, but she also wanted him. How did that even work?

"Why not?" She shrugged. He scoffed and her eyes closed. "I mean…I know why, but – God, this is so hard."

George ran a hand through her hair. "Do you love me, Eleanor?" Her eyes remained closed, and she nodded slowly. He couldn't help but smile as he leaned down to meet her lips, kissing her gently. Her hands pulled on his tie and jacket, drawing him closer. It was a desperate kiss, the two of them were confused and lost, but were undeniably lovers. His hand traveled to her waist, wanting her even nearer.

"Oh, George," she whispered. "We can't do this here."

He pulled away slowly. "Stay with me tonight."

She looked up at him, stroking his cheeks. "I dunno…How will I…?"

"We'll work it," he said, gently kissing her.

* * *

"So you takin' Pattie home tonight, eh?" Paul asked.

"Who?" George asked, not paying attention to Paul.

"Pattie." He said.

"Oh, nah, not tonight. Don't think so." George shrugged.

"Eh? She's been starin' at you all night." Paul stated.

"Yeah but," he lost his voice when he caught a glimpse of Eleanor and John together. Pushing the image away, he continued. "I'd rather wait, you know?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." He said, puzzled. "So how's it coming with Eleanor?"

George instantly focused when he said her name. "What about her?"

Paul turned to face him. "You doin' what I said? You forgettin' about her?"

"Yeah, of course I am." He lied. "Got Pattie now, don't I?"

Paul smiled. "Yeah, she's great. You sure you don't wanna spend the night with her?"

George knew he was trying to encourage the two get more closer, but it just wasn't possible. Eleanor would always come first. "Positive."

* * *

"I can't believe he fell for it," groaned Eleanor, sitting on George's bed. "I feel terrible."

George gave her a soft smile. "Don't, hey. Honestly, you have nothing to feel bad about."

She forced a dry laugh. "Yeah, alright, George. This isn't a bad thing, hm? What we're doing?"

"You can leave if you want." He snapped.

She sighed. "I don't want to."

He sat by her, kissing her softly on the neck. "Eleanor luv, why do you feel bad? You shouldn't, really."

She stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"Eleanor," he started. "How many times has John hurt you? Christ, he's cheated on you every night for the last, what? Three, four years?"

"Don't," she whined. "Don't say that, why would you…Are you trying to hurt me?"

"No, darling," he said, resting his hand on her cheek. "But it's the truth, ain't it?"

She weakly nodded, lying down on the bed. "I understand that it's tempting, you know, having girls throw themselves at you." He moved so he was lying down also, so they were face to face. "I mean, you do it too, right?"

He bit his lip, not exactly proud of it. "Yeah, I do." He whispered. "I'm not married, though."

"I'm not too worked up about it, I get that it would be hard to control yourself." She explained. "I guess one or two times every now and then wouldn't be too bad. It would hurt, but it wouldn't be an absolute crime. But he constantly does it. I don't…I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"Hey, don't talk like that. You aren't doing anything wrong." He aid quietly. "John's just…I don't know, really."

She nodded, closing her eyes. "I don't think he understands how much it hurts."

"You've told him, haven't you?" He questioned, playing with her hair, twirling the dark strands between his fingers.

"More like yelled at him, but yes, I've told him." She said.

"What does he say?"

She shrugged. "Usually he says it doesn't matter, but then he comes to his senses, I s'pose."

"You always forgive him, don't you?" He murmured. She nodded and he kissed her softly, wanting to take her pain away. He knew what they were doing was wrong, but it would make her better. He wanted her to be happy and feel loved, because she deserved it. He pulled away to speak. "I wrote a song for you." He whispered.

Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face. "Really?"

He smiled, seeing the look on her face. "Yeah."

"Can I hear it?" She asked, excitement in her voice.

"No," he laughed.

"What?" She shrieked. "Why not?"

"It ain't done yet." He shrugged. "Gotta fix it a bit."

Her mouth closed and she hit him playfully. "Don't do that."

"What?" He smirked.

"Get me all riled up and let me down." She giggled.

"Riled up?" He snickered, his hand resting on her knee.

"Yes, George Harrison, you're terrible," she joked, grabbing his collar softly, pulling him close to her. "Make it up to me." She smiled.

He pulled back a moment. "You want me to…?"

"Make love to me?" She offered.

He blushed. "Yes, that."

"Please." She whispered.

* * *

Eleanor looked up at the ceiling, feeling several different emotions.

The first was anger. She was angry at herself. How did she let this happen? She was married. Married. But married people make mistakes, too. She was still pissed, though. She wasn't going to blame George, however.

She turned to face him, and the next rush of emotions hit her. The next was happiness. She smiled, thinking about last night. George made her feel special, like no one else mattered. She couldn't believe they had actually made love, but when it happened, it just felt right. Like it was meant to happen.

The third emotion was embarrassment. What was everyone going to say? She was certainly going to be known as a whore now. And what if all the fans found out? Surely she'd be killed. She was already receiving death threats.

When she stared down at her left hand, she felt the last emotion. Sadness. She looked at the ring on her finger, the ring that represented the love between her and John. It wasn't a lot of love, and she was sure it was going to die down soon. She couldn't do anything to stop it.


	13. What You're Doing

**Ugh I was supposed to update the day before my holidays started but I had to pack for my trip to Queensland! Sorry guys. I only got back yesterday, and I was exhausted. I was busy all day in town today with movies and shopping and such. Speaking of - anyone see Toy Story 3? It's amazing! And I sobbed like a little girl. So, here's the next one, finally. Sorry if there are any mistakes. I'm trying to edit as quickly as I can, but Help! is on soon so I'm in a bit of a rush. Also, thanks for all the comments. You're all so lovely. (:**

_what you're doing – chapter thirteen_

**1964**

"George, thank you for this," gushed Pattie.

"Tonight's been lovely." George and Pattie had spent the night together in his flat, just talking and eating dinner. Guilt was washing over him but whenever felt it, he'd always pushed it away.

"You're welcome," he winked, grabbing her hand. "Would you like to spend tomorrow with me as well? Well, me and the rest of the lads."

She grinned. "Oh, that's great, George," she smiled. "You sure they won't mind?"

George leaned forwards, reassuring her with a kiss. "Of course they won't." He rubbed her hand. "Besides, you're my bird now, they'll have to deal with ya."

The main reason George wanted to bring Pattie to Ringo's that day was to get Eleanor jealous. He knew she and John would be there, and it's not like he wasn't allowed to see anyone. Ever since the two made love the other night, she'd been distant whenever they were together. She'd hardly talk and when she did it was only a few words. He hated it. He didn't know what he had done wrong.

"I'm worried, George." Pattie admitted as they drove to Ringo's. He was having a small party, him and Maureen had decided to have it this weekend, inviting the three other Beatles and guests of their own. "What if they don't like me? It's not like we've talked since _A Hard Day's Night_."

"Relax, luv," comforted George. "You have nothing to worry about."

"John kinda frightens me." She said, ignoring George's comment.

He laughed. "John frightens everyone."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, and the two reached the destination, both feeling nervous, both for completely different reasons. They were greeted with warm smiles from Ringo and Maureen and were asked to sit down, where everyone else had already arrived. George and Eleanor instantly stared at each other, and he saw a small frown appear on her face. Ignoring her, he sat done, accepting a drink from Maureen.

"Ah, so you and Pattie gettin' married or somethin'?" Joked Paul, grinning at the sight of the two together.

"What's it to you, aye, Macca?" He asked.

Pattie blushed. "We're just, you know, together."

George watched as Eleanor bit her lip, somewhat angrily. He was meant to make her jealous, and clearly it was working. But still, he felt guilty for playing both Eleanor and Pattie. They were both good girls, he didn't want to hurt any of them.

Paul winked. "Whatever you say."

"Shut it, Paul," smirked George, taking a sip of his drink. "Besides, it's not like we're the only couple in the room, hey."

"Aye, that's right, Paulie." Laughed John, his strong arm around Eleanor, "Don't you dare forget us, son." Eleanor gave them all a weak smile.

Paul rolled his eyes. "What, the Lennons are the fuckin' top couple?"

"Yes, yes we are…" The sarastic words faded out of George's mind, quicker than he thought possible. He was trying to block out anything to do with John and Eleanor.

They were outside before he knew it, Maureen being a good hostess, making sure everyone had drinks and food and were just genuinely comfortable. George had gone to look at the garden, some flowers he had seen caught his eye. He heard someone walking near him and assumed it was Pattie.

"What's going on?" Came Eleanor's voice.

George quickly looked up from the ground and up to the sad looking brunette, surprised."What do you mean?"

"Who is she?" She asked, her voice rushed.

"I don't…I don't know who…?"

"The girl you brought with you," She muttered. "Who is she?"

George sighed, knowing this was coming. "Her name's Pattie. She wasin the film with us."

"Oh."

"She's a nice girl you just gott-"

"Are you two serious?" She asked, her loosely arms crossed.

George forced a laugh. "Are you and John serious?" He asked sarcastically.

Her head quickly turned to face his. "Don't do that."

"Sorry." He murmured.

"So you like her then?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, yeah, I guess." He shrugged.

"So we're not gonna…Not gonna see each other anymore, are we?" She whispered.

George thought for a moment. He wasn't even sure. He and Pattie had started seeing each other seriously; she even broke off whatever was going on with her previous boyfriend. It proved to George that she was committed, that what they were doing was going to last more than a few weeks. "I don't see why we should stop seeing each other."

Her neat eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think I could do that."

"What? Why not?" George asked. "It's not like anything has to change."

Eleanor shook her head. "It just makes things so much more complicated."

"Well, Pattie's just, you know – she's just a bird." He shrugged.

She bit her lip. "What do you mean?"

George looked back to see if either John or Pattie had noticed the two were gone: they were both talking to Ringo, so George continued. "She's just there for a bit of fun, I s'pose."

Eleanor stepped back a little. "Well what am I then?" George raised an eyebrow. "If she's just a bit of fun, then what am I?"

He finally came to his senses, his eyes widening. "I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly. "I mean…you know what I mean, luv."

She shook her head. "I know we're not the most…conventional couple, but it's not just a shag, is it?"

George was finding it hard to explain himself, considering that John and Pattie weren't that far away. "No, of course not. It's just, me and Pattie aren't that serious."

"But you're together, aren't you?"

George paused. "Well, yeah, but-"

"You're not gonna be ending it any time soon, right?" She demanded.

"Well…I like her," he confessed. "But it's not like you and me have to stop."

She took another step back. "I don't think you me can work anymore, George." She whispered.

He wanted to grab her then and there and tell her that everything would be okay. But of course, her husband was there, her husband who happened to be his best friend. All he could do was let her go. "Eleanor, what's the problem? Pattie's just…she's just gonna be there, luv. That's it."

"George, you're gonna fall in love with her, I know it," she shook her head. "It wont be as easy anymore."

"You're being ridiculous." He muttered.

"I'll feel even worse," she complained. "I'm already cheating on my fucking husband, I don't want you to cheat on Pattie with me."

"Eleanor, please," he pleaded. "You can't do that, you can't just stop this all of a sudden."

"Well I am." She exclaimed, turning around.

He went to grab her wrist, but restrained, he couldn't do that. Not in front of everyone. "Don't do this," he called, her back to him. "Eleanor, come on, don't you think you're exaggerating, just..."

His voice railed off, she'd already gone.

Eleanor tossed and turned that night, finding it hard to find a comfortable position in the bed. All she was doing was replaying today's events over and over again in her mind. Shewasn't quite sure why she was so upset about the situation. She already felt terrible. She turned over, moving hair from her eyes. She didn't want to do what she did to John. He was changing, but she kept bringing up the past: all the times he hurt her, cheated on her, it all added up to her cheating on him. She turned back to her original position. Part of her was completely jealous...It wasn't as if she didn't like Pattie, she seemed nice enough, but she was with George. And George was hers. She knew she was being selfish; after all, she _was_ married. She turned again.

"Jesus, what's goin' on over there?" Came John's muffled voice.

"Sorry," Eleanor whispered. "I just can't getcomfy."

She felthis warm hand wrap around her body, pulling her against him. He kissed her neckgently, his fingers gently stroking her stomach. "Just try and sleep, luv." He murmured.

"I'll try." She felt even more guilty. She couldn't even remember when things got so hard...John being an ass had become part of her daily routine, she was almost used it. Why did it all suddenly become different? ...Unless he knew? No, he couldn't. How would he know anyway? It's not like anyone but her and George knew about it. But where did this sudden boost of emotion come from? Even when they were first together he wasn't that affectionate. "John?" She called out; half hoping he was asleep and didn't hear her.

"Mm?" He replied, sounding half asleep.

"...Don't worry."

Eleanor chewed on her nails. She'd never been this nervous. She felt like she'd murdered someone, or done something worse. Sitting by the phone, she looked at the clock. Half past seven, George should be home. Dialing his number, she prayed John wouldn't come in.

"Hello?" Came that familiar voice.

She cleared her throat. "Hi George."

"Eleanor?" He asked, his voice hushed.

"Yeah, it's me."

She could hear him fiddling with something, it sounded like a bunch of papers. "Hello luv, how are ya?"

She sighed. "I'm stressed."

"Oh." He paused. "Because of me, perhaps?"

"Without a doubt."

He laughed. "Sorry."

She continued to chew on her nails. "Are you alone?"

"Um, yeah," he started. "It's not like me and Pattie are, you know, livin' together and all that. Is John home?"

"Yeah, he is," she answered. "Up in the bedroom, writing some songs or something."

"Ah," he began. "music is the boy's second love, ain't it?"

"His first love being?" She queried.

She could hear his grin. "You, of course."

Eleanor rolled her dark eyes. "That was expected."

"Well you _are_ his first love." He stated.

"Right, George."

"I'm being honest."

"So am I."

He laughed. "You're terribly stubborn, you know that?"

"I didn't call you to talk about that." Eleanor replied, almost angry.

"Oh, well then what, luv?" He murmured.

She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to tell him, so she thought tell him straight out was best. "I'm sorry, George."

He didn't reply for a moment. "It's alright, darlin'. I can understand that you'd be a bit upset 'cause of me and Pattie."

"I feel terrible, George." She admitted.

"We've already talked about this, Eleanor. You shouldn't feel bad." He comforted. "We love each other."

She sighed. "But George, we're doing something horrible. John's not gonna be able to handle this."

"Well John doesn't have to find out." He replied.

"If we're not telling John, then where is this going? We're just gonna be hurting people for no reason." She complained.

"Yes...Well, we'll work it out, won't we?" He asked. "We just have to talk abut it, sort it out more proper, yeah?

"Damn it, George." She groaned. "I'm not a bad person; I don't wanna go behind people's backs doing this."

She heard George groan too. "Well what do you bloody well want then? Do you want to leave John for me?" He damned.

"What?" She cried, shocked. "No! Of course not, no. Why would you even think that?"

"That's all I'm fuckin' hearin', Eleanor." He yelled. "You feel bad about doin' this, you said so yourself. Well thiswon't go anywhere unless you do somethin' 'bout it."

She looked back, to see if John was coming. He wasn't, so she continued. "Well I couldn't leave John for one of his best friends, that's not right at all."

"Well it's not fuckin' right cheatin' on him with one of his best friends, it it?" He asked angrily.

"Don't throw that back in my face." She muttered. "You know why I started this, George."

He sighed. "What are we gonna then? Bloody hell, when did this get so complicated?"

"When we started seeing each other." She snapped.

"What's the supposed to mean?" He scoffed.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Are ya sayin' you wanna stop this?" His voice was rough and harsh.

Eleanor wasn't sure how to answer it. Yes, half of her did, yet the other half didn't. She was loved all the time when she was George. John only did that when he was scared, she noted. It was obvious now; he was only doing it because he thought she'd lost her. Yes, she loved it: she adored him even more when he was being affectionate and loving. But George was like that all the time; John was like that when he was scared. It was a decision no one should have to deal with, she thought.

"I don't…I don't know, I just…" She stuttered.

"Yes or no, Eleanor? It ain't that hard." He snapped.

"It's harder than you think." She said, softy.

"Answer me, Eleanor." He said in an instant. "It's either John or me."

"John."

He hanged up a second later.


	14. And I Love Her

**1/2 (:**

_and i love her – chapter fourteen_

1964

George wasn't sure how to handle the situation. He was expecting Eleanor to take his side, to choose him. He partly understood Eleanor's reason for staying with John - but that wasn't enough. He wanted her. He needed her. He fucking loved her. John didn't deserve her; he didn't love Eleanor like he did.

Groaning softly so no one else would hear, he continued to play his guitar in the studio, his eyes going over to rest on John's figure every now and then. George envied him, he truly did. He didn't care that they were mates, he just wanted Eleanor. He had Pattie, and she was a good person. She was pretty and nice and just lovely overall, and he enjoyed spending time with her. But whenever they were together his mind would forget her in an instant and he'd concentrate on Eleanor instead.

"Shit," he muttered. He stuffed up again... Paul was sure to get mad, as usual, so he braced himself for a lecture.

Paul turned to face him. "Again?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "You wanna put out a shitty album?"

"Doesn't really bother me."

Brian cleared his throat from the corner of the room. "Come on, work." He instructed.

George nodded meekly, going back to the start of the song. What were they even performing? He couldn't care less. All he noticed that day was John's sudden good mood. He was always angry when it came to early mornings, being bitter towards everyone. His mind was racing of the possibilities, mainly hoping it wasn't Eleanor who had caused his surprising chipper mood.

Eventually they were given their break, after what seemed like forever. George got out first, his guitar falling to the ground carelessly. Once out the door, he forced himself not to go in there and kick the Hell out of John, and instead went outside. He rested against the wall and searched his pocket for his packet of cigarettes.

"Shit." He mumbled. He had left them back inside, and he certainly wasn't going to go back in. His want to hurt John was far too strong. Sighing loudly, his eyes closed and his head started to ache. He heard footsteps near him and he reluctantly opened one eye to see John.

"George," he nodded, standing by him.

"You alright?" He asked.

John looked as if he was hiding a grin. "I'm perfect, you?"

George bit his lip, shrugging.

"What's with you lately, mate?" John asked. "I mean, I can understand you messin' up a bit, but Jesus, you've been terrible lately."

George's anger was building up but he pushed it aside. "I dunno, really."

"It's not just the music, Georgie," John continued. "It's everythin'…What's goin' on?"

George shook his head.

"We've sorted all this Eleanor stuff out, right?" John asked. George scoffed, he didn't mean to. It just came out. John scratched his hair. "What's that?"

"What?" George stuttered. "Nah, you're right, we sorted it all out."

John raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah, of course I am." He said.

"… I don't believe you."

"Well you should," George assured. "You got nothin' to worry about."

John didn't look at all convinced. "I've told you, haven't I, George? I've told you how much I love 'er."

George nodded, not sure what he was afraid of. It would either end with George getting his face bashed in or the thought of Eleanor being hurt by John because of all of this. The second one ruled, he thought, that's what he was most afraid of. "I know, mate."

John's head cocked to the side. "Don't do this, George. I'm tellin' you now, don't do this."

"We haven't done anything; we aren't about to, either."

John looked down at his shoes. "Haven't I made it clear enough, George?"

"John…"

"Haven't I fuckin' said it before?" John questioned, the tone in his voice changing. It was quiet at the beginning, it was calm. Now his words were rough and angry.

"John, mate…"

"I'm not a good husband, I know it. But I'm changing, isn't that enough for you to back the fuck off?" He yelled.

George's arms were raised in defense. "I know, mate. I know how much you love 'er, I haven't touched the bird."

John's eyes rolled. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot, George." He yelled. "I know you have eyes for her. I've seen the way you look at her, like you're the one that's married to her."

The sudden comment of the two being married made George almost smile, despite who was saying it and why. "I admitted that, John. I like her but I don't bloody like her like her _that_."

John's hand rested on the wall, his fist clenching. "You're terrible liar, George."

"I'm not lying." He whispered.

"Fuckin' hell, George." John cried. "Just own up, will ya?"

He shook his head. "I have nothin' to own up to." He knew he should have been feeling guilty but he couldn't help it. He wasn't going to give in. "I said I liked her, but that's it. I care about you more than her."

John shook his head, laughing in a mocking manner. "I'm getting better, you know? She even fuckin' said so. There's no point wastin' your time on a bird who doesn't want ya."

George's eyebrows furrowed, and he felt a pain to the heart when he said. She did want him, didn't she? She might have chosen John, but that doesn't mean a thing. "You don't know a bloody thing about her, do you? You don't know what she wants."

"I know she wants me."

George felt a rise of anger forming in him. He could so easily break John right now. He could tell him what happened and what he did to her. How he spent hours and hours with his wife, kissing her, making love to her. It would kill John. It was tempting to release that information, to destroy him. "Maybe you should have a word with your wife, John," George snapped. "I'm sure she'll sort it all out." He turned to leave but felt a strong grasp on his left shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John said quickly.

George shrugged. God, how he wanted to rub it in his face. He wanted to prove that his wife had been with him. He decided that he wanted to tell him for his own personal gain, his own vendetta, so it was better to just let it go. "Ask Eleanor."

John's grip tightened. "Me wife loves me. She loves me, not you."

George let a smirk fall across his lips. "Don't be an idiot, John. I know that."

"Then what the fuck are you talking about?" John shouted.

"Jesus, ask your fuckin' wife, for the last time." George grunted, walking away.

* * *

John wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to find out. His suspicion had doubled and his nerves were taking over him. He ran a hand through his hair as he waited in the lounge room. Eleanor had gone shopping and wasn't going to be back for another few minutes. He wasn't even sure how he was going to handle the situation. Yell at her? Hit her? Ask her straight out? Beat around the bush?

He didn't have time to decide as soon the front door opened, and Eleanor stepped inside. She placed the bags John assumed to be filled with clothes by the corner, then took off her white coat. "John, you're home," she smiled, sitting by him, putting her coat by her side. "I thought you'd be gone a few more hours." She leaned in to kiss him, her soft lips pressing against hers. He gave in straight away, like he always did, and he left his hands on her waist.

"Yeah, Brain sent us home early or something, wasn't really payin' attention." He said, his hands leaving her body.

She laughed, kissing his cheek. "Typical John," she said, standing up. "What would you like for dinner? I was thinking pasta or mayb-"

"Sit down, Eleanor." He whispered, not looking at her.

Almost in an instant she was sitting by him. "What is it?'

His hand rested on her knee, softly stroking it. Sighing deeply, he spoke. "I don't deserve you, do I?" He wasn't sure where that came from; it wasn't even that relevant to the question he was meant to ask. But still, he said it.

"What?" She laughed, resting her much smaller hand on top of his. "John, you do. Don't say things like that, you know I hate it when you do."

John gave her a small smile. "It's just that sometimes I sit down and have a long think about us. I keep rememberin' all the times I hurt you and it just doesn't seem fair."

She rested her hand on his cheek. "Don't worry, John. You're not hurting me anymore, that's what counts, right?"

"I s'pose so," he whispered. "But still, I gotta take some responsibility for what I've done, yeah? Gotta make it better."

She smiled. "Oh John," she said softly. "You are making it better. You're being absolutely perfect."

He sighed. "Just for a minute, Eleanor," he said, holding up one finger. "Just for a minute, remember when I hurt you, when I hurt you the worst."

"Why would I wanna think about that?" She asked, removing her hand, and John felt what small from of warmth it provided fade away.

"Because," he began. "I just... I just wanna know what you were feelin'."

"John-"

"Please." He pleaded, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I have a headache, can we do this later?"

He knew she was lying, and he repeated the words he said earlier to George. "You're a terrible liar." She gave a small, soft laugh before nodding. "Tell me. Please. Just tell me what you felt."

She leaned back on the lounge, pushing a few strands of her behind her ear. "Why, John?"

"I need to know."

She stared at him for a minute before nodding, sitting back up. "The time you hurt me worst?" She asked out loud and John gave her a nod. "Back in Liverpool. You told me to come and see you play at the Cavern, but I had work, and I couldn't get out of it. Christmas was coming up too, so I really wanted the extra money so I could buy some good gifts." John listened intently, his eyes on her. "I remember I told you in the morning that I couldn't come, that I was sorry, that I'd make it up to you. You said something like…like…like I wasn't in love with you like I said I was, that I was lying. You made me feel like the worst person on Earth, seeing you like that. I went to work anyway but the whole time there I kept thinking that I was gonna burn in Hell for what I did, that you would never want me again. That's what hurt the most," she continued. "You questioning my love for you. You actually said that I didn't love you." She sighed, looking at him. "I did love you, and I still do. But when you pushed me away like that I honestly felt like breaking down right there in front of everyone. I nearly did."

She finished her story and John quickly pushed forward, his arms around her shoulder. He pulled her closer, so that she was on his lap. "I don't…I don't remember that."

She shrugged. "I don't expect you to, it happened years ago."

"But you do!" He snapped suddenly.

She ran a hand through his messy hair. "I know, but it would have effected me more than you. I'm not surprised you don't remember, it's fine."

John buried his head in her shoulder, closing his eyes. He felt like such a bastard. It wouldn't have even happened that long ago, maybe just a few years back. She felt him leave his grasp and he looked up at her, questioningly, wondering why she ended their warm embrace.

"Dinner." She winked, leaving for the kitchen. He chased after Eleanor, only a step or two behind her. "Pasta's fine, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, watching her wrap an apron around her body. He remembered then that he had to ask her the question he was dreading. He had to ask her about George. He sat at the counter, watching her walk around the room, opening various cupboards and pulling out whatever items she needed for the meal. "Luv?"

"Mm?" She asked, opening the fridge.

"Do you love George?" He decided it was best t just come out of the open with it, other wise he never would of said what he needed to.

She nearly dropped the bowl she holding, he could tell she almost lost her grip but quickly regained it. "What?"

"Do you love George?" He repeated.

Her mouth opened but no noise came out. That was a sign, right? "As in-"

"Harrison? One of me best mates? Yeah." He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did.

She cleared her throat. "Of course not."

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Positive."

"Could you ever love him?

Eleanor looked at the floor. "I don't know," she murmured. "I don't think so."

John rubbed his eyes. "What if he told you he could take all your pain away, if he could treat you better?"

"I'd tell him…" She trailed off for a second. "I'd tell him that even if he did, it wouldn't matter, because I'm already in love."

"But he could treat you ten times better, couldn't he?" John said. "He'd treat you like a princess."

"But you treat me like a queen."

He laughed softly. "Are you forgetting everything I've done to ya? What about what happened in Liverpool?"

She shook her head. "That's in the past."

"You don't love him?"

"No."

He nodded. "Good. He wouldn't love you like I do, anyway. I don't care what he does. He could buy you all of England but he couldn't beat my love for ya."

She smiled. "I know, John."

"You do know I love you?" He questioned. "I always will."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "John Lennon, I know. As much as I like to hear you say things like that, you're starting to worry me," she admitted, kissing his cheek. "You always worry me."

He pulled her into his lap, like before. "George will never love you like I can, darling."

John wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or Eleanor. He was hoping Eleanor would come straight out and tell him something was going on. He didn't know what he wanted to hear, but he knew what she wanted: her old John back. This kind, loving man he used to be, who he used to like to be. Temptation and persuasion always go the better of him; he just hoped Eleanor hadn't fallen under the same spell.


	15. I Should Have Known Better

**2/2 ****Ugh I really cannot believe that it's actually been that long since I updated D: I have been given a ridiculous amount of assignments (but I suppose that's school, huh?) and everything really has been crazy with me this year. I really am sorry. But I'm glad I've been given so many comments on this story, and I know I keep saying it and you're probably sick of it, but it means so much. (: I wouldn't be writing any of this if I didn't have your encouragement, and it makes me so happy to know that people are actually enjoying it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. (:**

_i should have known better – chapter fifteen_

**1965**

It had been a year and things seemed to have moved on fast. The Beatles were still as popular as ever. Paul and Jane were together, as well as Ringo and Maureen. Eleanor and John were still married, still somewhat happy. Much to Eleanor's displeasure, George was still with Pattie. She had thought it would have ended a lot sooner, but alas, it didn't, and the two seemed happy. Of course she was happy too. She and John had been getting along better since all the incidents of the years before. But part of her still felt lonely, like something wasn't quite right with the relationship.

As she sat with John as he talked to Paul about some film, she suddenly felt very awkward. She had gotten used to the crowded parties and crazy fans, but when it was just the boys and their partners and her, it just seemed like she didn't belong.

She felt John give her a small poke in the arm and she turned to face him. "What?"

"You right?" He asked. "You been quiet all night."

She shrugged. "I'm fine." He didn't seem convinced, but went back to Paul anyway. She rolled her eyes. She had no idea why she wasn't happy, what was going on with her. The entire year had been spent eyeing Pattie with jealousy. She knew she shouldn't, that she now had an excellent husband. But she couldn't help but not ignore what she had with George. It may have lasted only a few months, but those few months had been total bliss for her.

Frustrated, she got up and walked out of the room, pulling the front door open. She was immediately hit with a strong summer breeze, and she closed her eyes, taking it in. She leaned against the verandah, her small arms resting on it. She stood there for a few minutes until she felt two strong arms place themselves on her shoulders, and in surprise, she quickly turned around.

"John," she gasped.

John smiled at her. "Scared ya, did I?"

She nodded, turning back around.

He stepped next to her. "Why'd ya run out like that?"

"I didn't run out." She muttered.

"You moved pretty fast to me." He replied.

"Leave, will you?" She said, aggravated. She came out here alone and she wanted to be left like that.

He raised an eyebrow, resting his hand on his back. "What's with ya, luv?"

She moved from her first position so his hand slid off her shoulders. She didn't know what was wrong, but suddenly her mood had completely changed, and she really didn't want John around her.

"Eleanor?" She heard John whisper. She turned to face him. "What's the matter?"

She had no idea. "I'm just feeling a little tired."

He stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You wanna head back home, darling?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. I just… don't worry."

He gave her a worried smile. "If there's something wrong you can tell me, you know?"

She felt bad; John was only trying to help. She nodded. "I know, John. Thanks. But I'm okay."

He kissed the top of her head gently, smiling down at her. "I don't mind leaving."

She rested her hands on his cheat. "No, stay, please."

He nodded, taking her hand and walking back in with her. She felt embarrassed when the two walked back inside, withall eyeson her. She just wanted to leave with John and George so she could be happy. She tried to ignore it all and sat down inher original position by John.

Pattie looked up at Eleanor, a small smileappearing on her face. "So, um, Eleanor," she started. "Me and Mo were wonderingif you wantedto head into turn this weekend. Doa bit of shopping?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's been a while since we've had a bit of a day out," Maureen said, joiningin. "Besides, we could get away from this lot."

"Aye." Piped up Ringo.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow in surprise, looking atGeorge for a second. She knew things would probably turn bad, but she couldn't let anyone get suspicious. The last three times Pattie had asked to spendsome time together shewould quickly think of an excuse, like she was sick or had other plans with someone. She glanced at George's blank expression once morebefore speaking. "Yeah, sounds great."

* * *

Eleanor wasn't paying attention. Pattie and Maureen were talking about something, a dress they had found, or it could have been shoes...

"What do you think, Eleanor?" Came a soft voice from behind. Pattie was holding up a simple white dress. "This would look great on you."

Eleanor grabbed the cloths hanger, examining the dress. "I guess."

"Try it on!" Maureen encouraged.

"I don't feel up for it." Eleanor muttered, putting the dress back on the neatlyorganised rack.

Pattie started back at her with worried eyes. "You don't like it?"

"It's not that," said Eleanor. "I've just got a bad stomach ache; don't feel like moving too much."

Pattie and Maureen didn't look at all won over, but continued to talk anyway. After a small lunch Pattie drove Maureen back home, awkwardly leavingheralong with Eleanor until they reached her house.

"Are you feeling better?" Pattie whispered.

"Sorry?"

Pattie cleared her throat. "Are you feeling better? You said you had a bit of a sore stomach?"

"Oh," Eleanor spoke. "Yeah, bit better, you know."

Pattie lookedat Eleanor, biting her lip before speaking. "How's John?"

Eleanor's head snappedto face her. "What?"

"John? How is he?" She asked, nervously.

"... He's fine."She said, surprised. She wasn't expecting her to ask her something about John, nor did she want to. "George?"

Eleanor watched as Pattie smiled at his name. "He's great, we're great. We're doing perfect." She sighed.

It was making it harder and harder for Eleanor to hate Pattie. She wanted to despise her, so everything with George could get by easier. But instead George had to pick himself a nice girl. A girl who actually liked George for being George, and not for his band. "Good." She muttered.

"He's so lovely," she laughed. "I can really see myself spending my whole life with him." She didn't need to hear this. "I suppose that's how you felt about John at first."

Eleanor sighed. "I guess. Don't exactly remember."

Pattie smiled at her, but her feature instantly changed when she saw the gloomy look upon her face. "Eleanor...?"

"Mm?"

"You don't like me, do you?"

The question shook her. She wanted to answer honestly but even she didn't know how to reply. She liked Pattie, but she hated her at the same time. It was all just so confusing. She didn't know who she wanted, John or George. "What makes you say that?" She questioned.

Pattie turned a corner, her eyes on the road. "It's just...you seem, you know, uneasy around me. Like you don't like me."

"I'm just a bit shy..."

Pattie breathed in deeply. "Is it something I've done? If it is, well, I'm sorry."

Eleanor shook her head. "It's not you, Pattie," she reassured. "I'm just... I'm a bit troubled at the moment."

"Oh," said Pattie, turning another corner. "Well you can talk to me, Eleanor. We might not be best friends, but we're _friends_, right?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"Well you can speak to me, then." Pattie smiled. "We're not that close, but I'd be happy to help."

"Thanks Pattie," Eleanor said, not looking at her, but outside the window. "But this problem... It's just kinda between me and a certain someone."

"John?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." She lied.

* * *

"Fuck fuck fuck." Eleanor muttered. She was planning on calling George, but fear was getting the better of her. She'd dial the first couple of numbers and then chicken out.

"You'll go to Hell for that." Came a voice behind her.

Eleanor dropped the phone, started. "What?"

John walked closer, leaning against the wall. "Swearin' like a sailor." He winked.

"Oh." She said, bending down to pick it up before placing the receiver in the correct spot.

"Only one time when you really do that." He grinned.

"Don't." She muttered, blushing, giving John's chest a small push when she realised what he meant.

He laughed, stepping nearer. "Who ya callin'?"

"Um," she tried to think of an excuse, someone not linked to George. "Just Brian. He wanted to talk to me about some interviews, you know. How to answer without revealing the hidden side of the Beatles."

"Ah, of course. We're all bad men really," He winked. "You seein' him tonight? I was kinda hopin' tonight would be ours."

Eleanor was hoping that she could speak to George, to sort some things out. "Oh," she started. "Well, he just wanted a call. We can spend tonight together."

John smiled. "Yeah? Maybe I could cook for us or somethin'."

"Or, go out to dinner?" She questioned, hope in her voice.

"Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "Prefer expensive meals over me, aye?" He joked.

She laughed lightly. "Yes, sorry John. And maybe we could...?" She hesitated for a moment.

"What?" He encouraged.

She shook her head, but still answered. "I was just thinking about Pattie." She lied.

John smirked. "Thinking about Pattie, oh really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not like that." She bit her nail. "It's just; she's kinda convinced I don't like her or something."

John just looked confused. "What? Pattie? Why?"

"Yeah, I dunno what it's about. She told me earlier this week, after shopping." She said."So I was just thinking that maybe I could show her that I liked her, you know." Another smirk appeared on John's lips. "Not like that." She repeated with a laugh. "I meant dinner. Me, you, and her and George."

John shrugged. "I dunno." She knew John was still skeptical about George, after everything the two had gone through. She knew that they only talked when they had to, like when they were in the studio or out in public, making it look like the two were best friends. She wished they could settle it, but knew it was impossible, especially since she still wanted to see George.

"Oh, please John. I really don't like the idea of Pattie thinking she hates me." It wasn't a complete lie.

John sighed. "It'll make you happy, won't it?"

She smiled, resting her hands on his chest. "Yes, it would." She leaned forwards and kissed his lips softly. "And it could make you very happy too." She murmured, pressing herself against him.


End file.
